Shade Dynasty
by Fatality
Summary: (sequel to Manifest Destiny) With their proposed alliances now in shambles and the foundations of their proud ancestry now at risk, the Twelve Princes of Shade now have a host of new hardships to overcome - including the arrival of Aveil Arthien into their midst, the prospect of elevating Phendrana to shadedom, and the very real threat of the return of Lim Tal'eyve.
1. A Prelude

The particles of formless darkness whisked away upon a light wind and scattered, all but lost to the naked eye against the dazzling sunlight that illuminated the central pavilion of Neverwinter, but they did not altogether vanish. When the breeze subsided the specks settled to the ground and melted deep down into the cobblestones, all but oozing through the earth as they bypassed the Material Plane and traversed dimensions. It was in a place altogether removed from Neverwinter in which the particles took shape again, first painstakingly constructing an outline before bursting into clearer focus and at last yielding a humanoid figure. To ebon hands and knees he fell, strands of lustrous ivory hair obscuring his elf's ears and all but hiding his mutinous amber eyes from view, and it was here that Lim Tal'eyve cursed the pitiful shade that had brought an end to his bid at resurrection.

Across the lavish chamber, reclining comfortably upon a deep maroon chaise lounge, the Spider Queen Lolth watched her subordinate in his despair. Finding humor in his misfortune she tossed her head back and her exquisite features twisted into a cruel laugh.

Lim Tal'eyve snapped his head up at the sound, baring his teeth into a snarl as he beat his fist once against the cold obsidian floor. "Damn you! How could you let this happen?! All was going according to plan, and now? The bitch has undoubtedly survived, when you might have intervened!"

As quickly as the goddess had found her mirth, it now vanished. She sat up a little straighter and fixed the impertinent drow groveling before her with the full forbidding weight of a deity's ultimate displeasure. "The fault is your own, and so on your own head be it. Did I not charge you with this task? Was I not inescapably clear when I told you that the moment you put an end to Aveil Arthien, then and only then would I agree to restore you to your miserable life?"

The drow's face soured, and it was in a disdainful tone that he snapped, "I don't recall that you found my existence so meaningless when I was the lord of the Bloodstone Lands. Did you not rejoice at the death of King Gareth Dragonsbane? Were you not pleased when I tore the unborn child from Aveil's body?"

The dark goddess tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails in a slow rhythm upon the arm of the chaise lounge, her sumptuous lips turned downward into a perpetual frown. Though the Lady of Spiders delighted in the continued chaos that Lim Tal'eyve wrecked in her name, she had to admit that the undead drow's all-consuming obsession with putting an end to Aveil Arthien was becoming quite tiresome. Had she derived continuous pleasure from Aveil's prolonged captivity within Castle Perilous? Absolutely. Were the Archmistress's daily tortures at the hands of Lim Tal'eyve and his various underlings music to her ears? The sweetest. Were her cries of ecstasy the loudest when Lim had cut the child of Aveil Arthien and Drako Falconis prematurely from its mother's womb? Indisputably.

But was she growing weary of Lim Tal'eyve's petty fanatical pursuits, his temporary victories and his countless failures? Very much.

"Through praise, verbal and otherwise, I have shown that your past actions have pleased me," Lolth drawled, sounding bored now. "But now I tire of your games. When I sent your pitiful essence to the Material Plane with specific instructions to end Aveil's life, it was not because I desire her death even a fraction as much as you do – it was because I do not think I can endure one more minute of your pathetic attempts at vengeance. I do hope that when I at last have Archmistress Arthien's soul in my keeping you will focus on your end of the bargain, because if you don't I will take great joy in stripping the life from you once and for all."

Lim rose from his crouch, approaching the maroon chaise lounge with his customary swagger and arrogance, one corner of his mouth crooked in a mocking sneer. "You and I both know that only Aveil is a threat to me now – who else in all of Faerun is capable of standing against me? The intervention of that shade was merely an unfortunate coincidence. Now that I have put an end to him, Aveil has no more lines of defense behind which she can hide."

These words prompted another laugh from Lolth as she relaxed back against the plush pillows lining the chaise lounge, and she cocked one leg provocatively as she surveyed her favored subordinate through heavy-lidded eyes. "The shade was right about one thing – you do talk far more than you should, and you value your meager abilities as though you were one of the divine yourself. Do you truly believe that your lackadaisical attempts procured such a result? Do you not know the identity of Aveil's self proclaimed protector?"

The drow scowled so deeply that the expression might have been chiseled permanently into his face. "He called himself Hadrhune, the Right Hand of Telamont Tanthul. He is of no consequence to either of us."

"And what gives you that impression?" snickered Lolth, thoroughly enjoying her subordinate's frustration.

"Am I so beneath your notice that my actions occurred beyond your knowledge?!" Lim offered a long-suffered sigh. "I administered a burst of sunlight in the very center of the shade's being. Sunlight is fatal to the Shadovar. Surely the Lady of Chaos knows that much, at least?"

Lolth had a great deal of patience for Lim Tal'eyve – after all, he had accomplished much in her name and for the most part he still strived to please her – but she was the Goddess of the Demonweb and was not prepared to abide his blatant disobedience. She rose from her chaise lounge in the blink of an eye and traced her index finger almost lovingly over his lips, and when next he attempted to speak it was to find that his lips had been magically stitched shut with the thin gossamer strands of a spider web. The Spider Queen snapped her fingers and summoned thousands of the sticky strands to bind the drow's body, and as Lim toppled helplessly to the ground she stood over him and said, "Do not presume to undermine me, thrall – have you forgotten that if you lose my favor, you lose all? You owe your piteous shell of an existence to me and my divine mercy, so you would do well to remember that the instant I tire of you, I will reduce you to nothing – not a thought, not a memory, not a soul without a vessel, but _nothing_!"

Lim Tal'eyve gazed up at his goddess mutinously, kept perfectly still within his bonds, and eventually relaxed his body in a show of complete submission. A simpering smile of appreciation flitted briefly across the Spider Queen's lips.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, listen – Telamont Tanthul is not simply the High Prince of some inconsequential rabble of Shadovar, but the nigh-immortal Lord Shadow from an age long before the fall of the fabled Netherese Imperium. He took a race from the brink of extinction and molded them into the strongest generation of shadow sorcerers your world has ever seen. He has sired twelve sons, and they are all nearly as mighty as their patron. And he has chosen this Hadrhune as his personal emissary and most trusted advisor. Are you really so foolish as to believe that one daylight spell put an end to the Right Hand of Lord Shadow?"

With her fingernail she slit the webbing that sealed the drow's mouth shut, and as blood blossomed upon his dark lips he said, "You praise these infidels who not only have no love for you, but openly worship one of your most hated enemies?"

Every word Lim Tal'eyve spoke was truthful, though of course the Spider Queen would never admit to it. The matron deity of both the descendents of Netheril and the present day Shadovar was Shar, the Goddess of the Moon and a divine entity of far greater standing than Lolth – according to the Faerunian pantheon, of course. For eons Lolth and Shar had vied for prominence, and though the former's cunning and guile often garnered praise she had made very little headway in the grand scheme of things. She had half a mind to thrash her snippy subordinate with the whip of vipers she always kept close at hand, but an interesting series of events began formulating in her mind and gave her pause.

The Tanthul family served as royalty in the City of Shade, and Shar made no secret of the fact that she considered the thirteen princes of that great magocracy the crown jewels among her worshippers. Their conquest of the Heartlands was knitting together nicely – though there was still much work to be done – and the Netherese nobles were even now stretching out their considerable influence and seeking alliances with such great nations as Waterdeep and Silverymoon. As the Tanthul family continued to gain the favor of Shar, so Shar would continue to rise in prominence among the deities of the Faerunian pantheon.

Unless another divine entity thwarted those aspirations, and kept the spoils for herself.

Lolth retreated to her chaise lounge and sprawled back against the overstuffed pillows, taking the whip of black-scaled vipers into her dainty hands and stroking their lengths lovingly with her fingertips. She regarded the still-bound drow writhing on the obsidian floor with an expression of haughty introspection when she said, "I will present to you now my will, which I expect you to follow without question: if Aveil Arthien has somehow fallen into favor with the Tanthul family she will be next to impossible for you to obtain, for the Netherese archwizards are far beyond you. However, if it should come to pass that the only way to reach the Archmistress is to destroy the nobles of Thultanthar, then I will grant you whatever you wish to eradicate every last one of them."

Lim cocked an eyebrow despite himself. "You trouble yourself with the Shadovar? Did you not consider them beneath you mere moments ago?"

The first deadly spider scurried over the drow's cheek then, and glancing down he noticed hundreds of spiders varying in size and color emerging from the darkness beneath his goddess's chaise lounge; they crawled over his prone body in earnest, seeking places to bury their wicked fangs at their mistress's silent command. Lim glanced up at the Spider Queen to find her watching him with a tiny smirk curling her lips and utmost superiority in her eyes.

"Never again question me," she ordered him, and the first of the spiders bit down upon his jugular.

For his part Lim Tal'eyve, the Day-Burden, the Anointed Blade of the Jaezred Chaulssin, the Lichdrow Usurper of the Bloodstone Lands, lay perfectly still within his bonds and did not cry out or protest as the Spider Queen's minions began to feast upon his temporary flesh. Countless tortures at the hands of Lolth had taught him that his goddess delighted in his screams of utmost agony and that she reveled in his pleas for mercy. If he was prepared to be completely honest with himself, he was long since finished trying to earn the praise of the Spider Queen anyway.

If he had learned anything from his years of torment and servitude, it was that the greatness of Lolth no longer had the authority to get him anywhere. Any amount of pointless victories wasn't about to topple Shar from her unshakeable position near the top of the Faerunian pantheon, and it was obvious that those faithful to Shar had nothing to gain but more power and prestige. Perhaps it was time to change tack after all these years of scrabbling to gain the foothold that he deserved, and take a leaf out of the Tanthul family's book.

So Lim Tal'eyve watched the spiders at their gruesome work and dreamed of a world where he, and not the Spider Queen Lolth, challenged the Mistress of the Night for dominance over all of Faerun.


	2. Chapter One

Deep in the vast deserts of Anauroch, high above the scorched wasteland of sand and ruined relics, soared the last floating enclave of the ancient Netherese Imperium. Thousands of years previous powerful archwizards belonging to the legendary kingdom of Netheril had taken to the skies by enchanting their majestic cities with powerful magics that defied gravity itself; unfortunately it was that same ingenuity that had nearly brought about the sudden and swift end of their entire race. At the hands of a single ambitious and irresponsible wizard the grand cities of Netheril all came crashing to the ground when the secret to their sorcery, the mighty mythallars, had been rendered useless by a great influx of magic; thousands had died in an instant in the cataclysm known as Karsus's Folly, and it was long thought that the Netherese Imperium was extinct.

Until the floating city of Thultanthar mysteriously appeared in the skies above Anauroch.

Controversy had surrounded the return of the last of the Netherese archwizards, but the truth was really quite simple: the oldest and strongest of the Netherese, a shade known to his subjects as High Prince Telamont Tanthul, was really far older than many truly knew. As long lived as the Netherese and the Shadovar were, very few yet remained who recalled Karsus's Folly firsthand and had survived the seventeen century sojourn of their proud city into the desolate Realm of Shadow, and as those precious few recalled the renown Lord Shadow and the High Prince that everyone was so familiar with were two very different monarchs. Telamont himself always found those assumptions quite amusing… for of course, those monarchs were actually one in the same.

It was Telamont's thirst for the unknown that had led his people from the Material Plane and into the Shadow Realm, and although the trans-dimensional shift had lasted several thousands of years longer than anyone had originally anticipated, it had astounding results. Telamont's curiosity had preserved the Netherese Imperium, and that sojourn to another plane of existence had made his already magically-adept race far more capable than ever before. Their continued faith and devotion to the goddess Shar had bestowed upon them an entirely new sect of magic known as the Shadow Weave, and even now very few individuals existing outside of the City of Shade had access to that elusive branch of magic. That same faith in the Mistress of the Night had eventually led the last of the Netherese floating cities back into the Material Plane after a grueling seventeen hundred years of ceaseless adaptation, where now they were perched upon the precipice of becoming one of Faerun's major powers.

Not that High Prince Telamont was resting on his laurels at present – no, for the time being he was facing his second eldest son, Rivalen, as he tried to decide whether or not to allow him to live. After a moment's quiet deliberation the High Prince lifted one hand and struck his son with a blow that sent the Second Prince flying; he crashed into one of the five-foot-tall black candelabras lining the bottommost stair leading up to the Most High's throne before coming to rest upon the floor, surrounded by half-burnt candles lit with flickering blue flames. For their part his three brothers – Mattick, Vattick, and Brennus – did their best not to react in any way, for to draw attention to oneself would surely mean they would share in the Most High's wrath.

"Kneel!" bellowed the Most High, his voice reverberating throughout the massive audience hall, and Rivalen was quick to return to the front of the line and prostrate himself before his father; once there he felt quite keenly the full weight of the High Prince's displeasure, for it drove him nearer to the ground until his forehead was pressed painfully against the cool black marble.

All he could see was the Most High's booted feet as his father set to pacing furiously to and fro in front of him. "I sent you to Waterdeep to secure an alliance with Open Lord Paladinson, and what do you do? Instead of consulting with me when you found access to Waterdeep Tower denied to you, you admitted yourselves without permission?! Instead of inquiring as to why the Lords decided against an audience with us, you murdered them without cause and all but blackmailed Paladinson into agreeing to the alliance?! Need I remind all of you that our objective was to seek such unions _peaceably_ and without bloodshed of any kind?!"

Rivalen's voice was muffled by the marble when he mumbled, "Most High, if I may speak – "

Telamont's eyes flashed a blinding white and Rivalen was sent careening backward; he came down upon the short marble staircase about fifty feet away and was very still, moaning softly. "No, you do _not_ have permission to speak! I have half a mind to strip you of your title and cast you out of the city for this! Do you realize that this _cannot be undone_?! There is no way to spin the tale of this day in a way that paints us favorably! Regardless of what we say or do from this point forward, the city of Waterdeep will never view us as anything more than villains!" He rounded upon Mattick, Vattick and Brennus, who recoiled from the fury in his gaze at once. "And _you_! You are all just as much to blame as your brother for this atrocity! Did you not think to interfere?! Did it not occur to you that the brutal slaying of Waterdeep's nobles would be counter to my will?!"

Twelfth Prince Brennus, the youngest and perhaps the cleverest of the Princes of Shade, bravely spoke up on their behalf. "Most High One, we protested our brother's intentions on more than one occasion. He insisted that he was the authority on this, and that to disobey him would be just as blasphemous as directly disobeying you."

The High Prince's gaze cut between twin princes Mattick and Vattick to the back of the audience chamber, where Rivalen was slowly struggling to regain his feet. "On your life, is this true? Let me warn you - if even a single word you breathe is a lie, I will have you publicly executed as though you were no better than a commoner!"

Rivalen chose to take his father at his word as opposed to testing the truth of his threats – it was a very rare occasion when the Most High chose not to make good on a warning. Doubling over while the bones in his back finished healing he wheezed, "It is true, Most High One. They protested and I overruled them."

"But I confess," Brennus interjected quietly, "that we all participated in the slaughter."

Telamont opened his mouth to pronounce judgment on all of them, but they were momentarily spared by the arrival of Princes Escanor, Lamorak, Rapha, and Melegaunt; Escanor, the eldest of Telamont's sons, nodded respectfully to the High Prince as he passed him before seizing Rivalen by the front of his cleric's robes with both hands and lifting him several inches off the ground.

"Fool!" shouted First Prince Escanor, his ivory ceremonial fangs glinting just millimeters from Rivalen's face. "What have you done?! Imagine our shock when Alustriel of Silverymoon told us of the massacre in Waterdeep! Imagine our shame, accepting an alliance that the Lady only pledged out of _fear_!"

"Escanor!" roared Telamont. "Release him at once!"

The First Prince abruptly released his hold on Rivalen's robes and the High Priest of Shar came down heavily upon his feet; they glared at one another with pure loathing as Escanor stalked away to take his place in line on Lamorak's right. Escanor's words were true: he had led a peaceable treaty-seeking negotiation to the southern kingdom of Silverymoon just minutes after the massacre of the Lords of Waterdeep had occurred, but word traveled quickly among nobles and Lady Alustriel, the wise and just Queen of Silverymoon, had received word from Open Lord Piergieron Paladinson of the murders that had taken place in his court at the hands of a separate delegation from Thultanthar. Escanor had had no choice, therefore, but to allow Alustriel to slander the City of Shade and accept his proposal of friendship between their two great nations – on the singular condition that the Princes of Shade would agree to spare the people of Silverymoon.

Eleventh Prince Melegaunt stalked one step forward, stabbing his index finger in Rivalen's direction. "You have jeopardized everything we have worked so hard to obtain!"

Tenth Prince Rapha cocked his head toward the place where Brennus, Mattick and Vattick stood huddled. "And what about them? Clearly they did nothing to stop these horrors from happening! They are just as much to blame!"

"_ENOUGH_!" The High Prince's magically magnified voice rang in their ears, silencing their protests at once, and he waved his hand toward Melegaunt, Rapha, and Lamorak. "You three will leave me at once and return to your daily duties – at present I have no further use for you."

Without a word the three princes bowed and melted into the shadows of the audience chamber, stealing away without a sound as Telamont rounded on Escanor. "I am pleased that you were able to salvage your meeting with Lady Alustriel, though we will speak more on that at a later time. For now, you should retire also; I must deal with the matter at hand." First Prince Escanor nodded once in acquiescence and softly excused himself, following his brothers and becoming one with the encroaching darkness.

Telamont gestured then to Mattick, Vattick and Brennus, who were all watching their father with trepidation in their jewel-bright eyes. "You will all three remain here in the enclave until I feel I can begin to trust you again. Until such time you will resume your duties as normal, but you will not be eligible to carry out matters of state. Am I in any way unclear?"

A whispered cacophony of phrases such as, "No, Most High One," and "Thank you, High Prince, for your mercy," wafted up to meet him, and with a wave of his hand Telamont commanded the three of them to be gone. At last, he turned to regard Second Prince Rivalen.

"You deliberately disobeyed me," said the High Prince in a soft, forbidding tone of voice. "You allowed your own arrogance and your sense of foolish pride to stand in the way of making decisions that would benefit Thultanthar. How can you have done this? You truly have jeopardized all that we have worked to achieve."

Rivalen flung himself upon the floor at the High Prince's feet again, groveling for mercy. "I beg of you, Most High – know that all I did today, I did for the good of Thultanthar."

"Be that as it may," Telamont continued dryly, "the fact remains that you have utterly failed me. You are also forbidden to leave the enclave until I have chosen to forgive you; additionally you are banned from meetings of the Shadow Council until further notice, and you are not permitted to set foot within the Palace unless you are formally invited. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Most High One," breathed the Second Prince, regret apparent in every syllable. "Forgive me."

"In time, if you prove worthy," snapped Telamont. "Now remove yourself from my sight."

The moment the High Priest of Shar had vanished from the audience chamber Telamont retreated to his high-backed onyx throne and all but flung himself down upon it, and for a moment as he dropped his head into his hands he felt every bit of his three thousand years. The reprieve was short lived, though, as just a scant few seconds later five more figures materialized before him – Princes Aglarel, Clariburnus, Yder, and Dethud, as well as the mountebank Soleil Chemaut.

The first thing Telamont noticed about them was the singed and tattered nature of their clothing, but this was hardly unusual. The errand the High Prince had charged them with was decidedly more dangerous than those of the previous two delegations he had dealt with just moments before – this group, led by the soft-spoken but oft-lethal Fourth Prince Aglarel, had journeyed to the Dragon Coast seeking an alliance with the current dragon in charge, a particularly volatile red wyrm called Shaepulanderex. The High Prince had assumed that the encounter would come to blows but hadn't been overly concerned for any of his progeny – after all, four Princes of Shade and the Left Hand of the Most High could accomplish matters far more dire than the slaying of one dragon, even one as venerable as Shepulanderex. Seeing the five of them returned to the enclave in one piece but looking worse for wear than when they had departed could only mean one thing – they had engaged the elder dragon in combat, and the dragon had not survived.

At second glance, though, it became apparent that something was amiss – it was evident in the way that his sons kept glancing sidelong at Soleil when she wasn't looking, and the way that when she caught them staring they either looked away immediately or did not quite meet her eyes. Even Clariburnus, who had long considered himself one of the mountebank's greatest supporters and was often quick to aid her in her endeavors, stood a few inches further away from her than he normally would have.

Telamont observed all of these odd behaviors before at last cocking one shadowy eyebrow. "What has happened?"

"There has been…" Fourth Prince Aglarel paused, seemingly searching for the most accurate word or phrase, before settling uncertainly upon, "…a development."

The Most High's eyes fell heavily upon Soleil, whose head was turned downward and whose gaze was carefully hidden behind the curtain of her silky black hair. Though he could see little of her face, he was certain that her cheeks were pink with a light blush.

Telamont had long since been enamored of Soleil, arguably since the moment she had been brought before him as a fourteen-year-old vagabond who had somehow singlehandedly infiltrated Thultanthar's cryptic defenses. The reason for his fascination with her was really quite simple: in his three millennia of life the High Prince had been blessed with twelve strong and capable sons who made him quite proud – most of the time – but not a single daughter, and privately he had always wished for one. The young half-elf's honesty and innocence had prompted Telamont to take her in and study her for a time, curious as to why such a young girl would possess such purity of spirit when clearly the clientele she associated with were so much different – at the time Soleil had been an operative for a guild of treasure hunters that called the catacombs beneath Waterdeep their home.

It was kindness that had won Soleil's devotion to him, for Soleil had grown up with a fractured family and came from a background of neglect and deceit that had nearly made her unreachable. With careful nurturing Telamont had molded Soleil from a lost waif into a confident young woman, and on the eve of her sixteenth birthday the High Prince had proposed to make Soleil a member of his esteemed Shadow Council. On one condition – that she do so as a mountebank, and relinquish her soul into his keeping.

To the profound surprise of all, Soleil had readily agreed to these terms. In exchange for her continued service and the selfless sacrifice of her soul Telamont had gifted Soleil with a number of extraordinary talents. One of these was an ensorcelled ring that allowed Soleil to jaunt through rifts between dimensions, effectively short distance time travel harnessed into a single small item. The other was her most prized possession, and one of the reasons why Soleil was of such great use to the Twelve Princes of Shade – an empathetic link that alerted the mountebank when any of Telamont's sons, or Telamont himself, was in grave danger and needed her aid. This ability had served Soleil well over the years, and was the primary reason why she had long considered herself the guardian of the Tanthul family.

Telamont rose slowly from his throne, not really sure what to expect as he descended the short black marble staircase and drifted into place before the diminutive half-elf; though tall for her race, Soleil was easily the smallest member of the Shadow Council and was often overlooked if one was not careful. When he was standing before her the High Prince reached out and grasped her dainty chin with one shadowy hand, and he guided her head up until she had no choice but to look him in the eye. "Tell me what has happened, Soleil."

Soleil's chin was trembling in his hand, as though she were so frightened of him that she was barely holding back tears. This was very unlike her – years spent in the company of the battle-hardened Princes of Shade had taught Soleil how to control her emotions, and generally she was able to control their excesses. She blinked her sunshine-yellow eyes once before stammering out her shaky reply. "I… I killed the dragon, Most High One."

Telamont's eyes flitted over the top of Soleil's head and locked with Aglarel's; the Fourth Prince nodded curtly once, as if in confirmation of what the mountebank had said. "Singlehandedly?"

"Yes, Most High One," Soleil muttered nervously, but Telamont knew without being told that she was withholding something important from her testimony.

Unsurprisingly, Clariburnus cleared his throat politely and attempted to intervene on Soleil's behalf. "Most High, if I may be so bold as to intrude… It isn't that we are skeptical of Soleil's abilities, for we have all witnessed firsthand on many occasions precisely what she is capable of. Rather, it is simply the nature of the attack she loosed to destroy the dragon that has left us all a little… uneasy."

At this point in the day, Telamont was nearly out of patience. "By the Moon, enough with the insinuations!"

Seventh Prince Dethud stepped forward, his iron-colored eyes shining dimly from beneath the cowl of his cloak. "Apologies, High Prince. What happened was this: the dragon was preparing to attack us all with its fire when Soleil intervened. She spoke a word or two in a tongue that was not Common, and the words that she spoke seemed to be magically charged – her voice triggered a spell-like effect, a subzero temperature blast that not only rendered the dragon's breath useless, but froze the wyrm solid."

All eyes were upon Soleil now, whose face was so red it appeared to be sunburned and whose head was raised in a kind of terrified defiance. Telamont eyed the mountebank curiously, one hand stroking his chin as he mulled over every word that Dethud had spoken, and then the inquiries started. "Soleil, what language did you speak?"

"I… I don't know, Most High One," Soleil admitted in a feeble voice. "The words were unfamiliar to me."

"Perhaps it was a phrase you have heard somewhere?" prodded the High Prince patiently. "Something you have heard here in the enclave?"

The mountebank was shaking her head insistently before the words had even left Telamont's mouth. "No, High Prince. There were words that none within Thultanthar have ever spoken. As Prince Dethud said, the words were not in the Common tongue."

Telamont was pacing slowly the length of their line, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed as he considered. "A language you were vaguely familiar with from your days living in Waterdeep, perhaps? The population of Waterdeep is diverse – surely you were well-versed in more than one tongue when you were a child."

Soleil was chewing away at her bottom lip, and her eyes were wide with fear. "I apologize, High Prince, but no. I am fluent in one dialect of Elven and familiar with four others, but these words… I have no rational explanation for why I said them."

"Her inflection and timbre were completely foreign also," inserted Sixth Prince Yder. "It is almost as if for a moment she was… not herself."

"Foreign?" asked Telamont.

"In a way, the voice was not her own," said Aglarel. "Low-pitched and guttural… had she not looked precisely the same, I would have guessed an entirely different person had spoken."

Telamont was gingerly rubbing his temples with his fingertips now; he wore the expression of a man who had received a great deal of information in a short period of time. "And these words were magically charged, you say?"

"Soleil was able to harness a blast of cold at will, the potency of which was astounding," Clariburnus confirmed. "She needed no aid from us to dispatch Shaepulanderex."

Telamont was nodding along by the end, and he had scaled the stairs of black marble and seated himself again upon his onyx throne by the time Clariburnus had fallen silent. Resting one elbow upon the arm of the throne he balanced his chin in his hand as he surveyed Soleil shrewdly, saying, "This is a most fascinating development indeed. Judging by the fact that you are all standing here in one piece and that none of you seem badly hurt, I would call this campaign a success… However, now we are faced with the interesting dilemma of discovering just how Soleil killed the dragon. I suspect you are all quite ready for some rest, and I have had a most taxing day myself, so for now I think perhaps we should – "

But Telamont's proposed course of action was interrupted by yet another arrival, the solidifying of a separate shadow about fifteen feet to Soleil's left. At first glance it appeared to be a formless black blob, but as it came into sharper focus they came to understand that it was a low-crouching figure half-dragging a second figure who appeared to be hanging limply in the first person's arms. They were all squinting furiously in an attempt to make out just who was entering the Most High's private audience hall unannounced when the two figures materialized completely; the first was a petite female with a heart-shaped face, devastating curves, and violet spellcaster's robes, and in her arms she was attempting to carry the lolling form of Hadrhune.

"What is this?!" roared High Prince Telamont, leaping from his throne in a fury as his eyes flashed platinum fire.

In the blink of an eye Yder, Dethud and Soleil had all drawn weapons and advanced a single threatening step nearer to where the female wizard crouched over the seneschal; Clariburnus hesitated with one hand upon the shaft of his glaive, a flash of vague recognition crossing his face, but it was Fourth Prince Aglarel who kept the others from killing the lovely woman on sight. He melted into his own shadow and materialized a millisecond later between his fellow council members and the wizard bearing Hadrhune, his eyebrows raised and his arms out as if to keep the others from advancing any further.

"Archmistress!" he hailed her in a tone of mild familiarity. "What in the name of Shar are you doing here?"

Aglarel's unexpected outburst gave the female spellcaster just enough time to launch into the explanation that ultimately saved her life; she turned toward Fourth Prince Aglarel, dragging Hadrhune into her lap as she did so and winding her arms around him as though to protect him, and shrieked, "Help him! Please help him! He stopped breathing on the way here and he won't wake up!"

A piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Clariburnus then, and lowering his hand from his glaive he breathed, "It is you… Aveil Arthien?!"

Until just a few short nights ago, none within the City of Shade were familiar with the name Aveil Arthien – save for Hadrhune and Fourth Prince Aglarel, of course. Aglarel's acquaintance with Aveil was centered solely around their business interactions: she was the Archmistress of the Citadel of Assassins, the leading authority on magic and second in command of a secretive and deadly group of professional killers whose reach and influence knew no boundaries, and Aglarel often utilized that particular group as one of his ground contacts when he needed information on someone that lived outside of Thultanthar. They had dealt with one another on a handful of occasions on a number of matters that were strictly business oriented but had little to do with one another in any other arena.

Aveil's relationship with Hadrhune was something altogether different.

They had met in a similar way – while Fourth Prince Aglarel generally dealt with Timoshenko, Aveil's technical superior and the Grandfather of Assassins, Hadrhune met with Aveil often in the days following the suspicious disappearance of Knellict, the previous Archmage of the Citadel whom Aveil had replaced at Timoshenko's request. Hadrhune knew without asking how Aveil had achieved her sudden promotion – she had murdered Knellict in order to achieve her freedom from him, of course – but had long considered that circumstance none of his business and seldom brought it up when in her company. It was during one of their private meetings together that they had allowed their disciplines to slip momentarily, and that brief lapse of willpower had resulted in a one-time tryst between the two. Shortly after Hadrhune's business with the Citadel was pronounced completed and he had returned to Thultanthar, and Aveil, then married to a champion of Mielikki called Drako Falconis, had neither spoken of nor thought about their chaste meeting thereafter.

The return of Lim Tal'eyve as the Lichdrow Usurper of the Bloodstone Lands, however, had altered the entire course of Aveil's life in ways that were not fixable. In a bid to exact revenge upon Drako Falconis for ending his life, Lim Tal'eyve had abducted Aveil and imprisoned her within the dungeon of the fabled Castle Perilous, the former seat of power of the Witch-King Zhengyi and a relic of cursed magics the world over; though the air genasi and his friends had battled their way through legions of the lichdrow's faithful followers and ultimately brought the dreaded castle to the ground they had not been able to do so fast enough to spare Aveil the horrors that had darkened her perspective and ruined her marriage. Unable to hide her increasingly obvious pregnancy, Aveil had been powerless to protect her unborn child from Lim Tal'eyve's wrath – the lichdrow had cut the child from its mother's womb and sacrificed it to the Spider Queen Lolth. Neither Aveil nor Drako could abide the horrors they had suffered at Lim Tal'eyve's hands and after a few months they had drifted apart, wordlessly but mutually ending their years-long marriage to one another.

When the first whisperings of Lim Tal'eyve's next coming had reached the ears of several within Thultanthar's walls Aveil had reappeared; keen on thwarting the drow's attempts to return to the world of the living she had been quick to contact her only real acquaintance in the City of Shade – Hadrhune, the personal emissary of High Prince Telamont and the high shadow sorcerer of the enclave. That encounter had first come to blows and then ended with a swift but passionate exchange that had left them both reeling and the following meeting had raised eyebrows among the Princes of Shade, primarily because it could not be described as anything but intimate.

The matron goddess of the Shadovar, Shar, had demanded that the Shadow Council put a stop to Lim Tal'eyve's most recent attempt at resurrection, and as penance for his lapse in judgment Hadrhune had departed the enclave at the High Prince's request to defend Aveil from the lichdrow. He had accomplished the task the Most High had charged him with, but his actions had come at great personal sacrifice – they had landed him in his current state of declining health.

And somehow Aveil had borne the seneschal to the private audience chamber within the Palace Most High, all the way from the distant city of Neverwinter.

Seldom one for words, Sixth Prince Yder shoved past his older brother and brandished his enchanted chakra out before him. "Witch! Harlot! What have you done?! Do you not know the identity of the shade whose life you have taken?! Do you think the Princes of Shade will abide a treachery of this magnitude?!"

Seeing that Yder meant to strike Aveil freed one of her hands and summoned a white scepter adorned with a bright azure stone from thin air; sliding out from beneath Hadrhune she leapt to her feet, and though she was obviously fatigued from the lengthy journey through the Realm of Shadow she seemed perfectly prepared to defend herself. "The only treachery committed here will be yours if you presume to hold me accountable for this crime! I have come here at great personal risk to deliver Hadrhune to safety, and to beg you to aid him before it is too late!"

"And we will aid him," growled Yder, leveling his chakra in line with the Archmistress's throat, "after we have ended your miserable life!"

"Enough!" cried Clariburnus, and joining Aglarel's side he stood between Yder and Aveil. "Fool! This is the woman the Most High charged Hadrhune with protecting!"

Aglarel glanced over his shoulder to study Hadrhune for a moment before addressing Aveil. "Is this the doing of the lichdrow, Lim Tal'eyve?!"

But Aveil had heard enough, and she had reached the end of her patience for their questions. She shoved between Clariburnus and Aglarel, jostled Yder none-too-gently as she passed, and striding right up to High Prince Telamont she seized him by the wrist and cried, "Do with me as you will, but I beg of you, save him! _Please_!"

Soleil and Dethud simultaneously rested weapons against the wizard's back, blade and wand both millimeters from striking a killing blow. "On your life," Soleil hissed menacingly, "release the Most High at once, or never again breathe another breath!"

"Away," bade Telamont, and Aveil snatched her hand back as if burned; the High Prince drifted past them all and knelt down beside Hadrhune, taking the seneschal's cold hand in both of his own as he called out, "Brennus! Rivalen!"

Two shadows lingering always near the darkness at the edge of the audience hall seemed to peel themselves away from the walls and solidified into the forms of the High Priest of Shar and the young loremaster of Netheril; the two princes hurried forward at once, dropping together to Hadrhune's side and hovering their hands over him. Telamont took his feet upon their arrival, his platinum eyes veritably burning within his shadow-swathed face.

"Brennus," said Telamont, "what is it that felled Hadrhune?"

The Twelfth Prince sat back on his heels and swiped the back of his hand across his brow, looking defeated. "It seems a particularly potent daylight spell is the cause of Hadrhune's condition, Most High One… Faint traces of the burst of sunlight linger still within his body, concentrated around his shadow orb."

In order to become a shade, they all knew, one had to surrender one's soul and trade it for the essence of purest shadow; in doing so one's heart was for all intents and purposes completely destroyed, and the shadow orb was the life organ that replaced it. Without it, a shade could not survive. Telamont's gaze cut to Rivalen as he snapped, "Rivalen? Can he be saved?"

Second Prince Rivalen crouched over the seneschal's prone body and whispered the trigger phrase of a spell, and the moment his right hand had taken on the consistency of vapor he plunged it deep into Hadrhune's chest. Soleil flinched back against Clariburnus as Aveil gasped in horror and gulped back a dry sob; after a moment's contemplation Rivalen withdrew his hand, which seemed slightly brighter than it had before. Giving his hand a brief shake Rivalen expelled what appeared to be droplets of molten sunshine from his fingers, and when he addressed the High Prince his tone was a grave one. "His shadow orb remains intact, Most High One, but the organ is failing even as we speak and the sunlight is even now damaging his body." His eyes flitted in Aveil's direction as he added, "I detect fragments of a darkness cloak that I suspect you cast upon him – had you not exercised such a preventative measure, he would have died in transit."

"Answer me, Rivalen," growled the High Prince. "We are out of time."

Rivalen took his feet, gazing down at the seneschal with an expression of utmost pity. At length he said haltingly, "He lives, but his condition is critical… He may be beyond my care."

Telamont shook his head once as though this diagnosis was unacceptable to him. "Treat him as best you may – you have my permission to utilize any means at your disposal. If you are able to save Hadrhune, your sentence will be lifted."

The Second Prince was in his element, gesturing to both Brennus and Dethud. "Bring him – I will need you both to assist me." And without another word the three princes had blended into the shadows of the audience chamber and become little more than particles of shadow, taking the seneschal with them.

The High Prince faced Aveil at once, who was trapped between weapons wielded by both Yder and Soleil; he studied her evenly for half a minute or so as though deliberating just what to do with her, and when his face eventually hardened and took on an unforgiving expression she knew that his decision would not be favorable to her. "Aglarel."

Fourth Prince Aglarel was at his father's side at once. "Here, Most High One."

"You will escort Archmistress Arthien to the dungeons, where she will pass the time until Hadrhune's final fate has been determined. You are charged with seeing to her captivity – if she attempts to escape, you will face my wrath. And you – " Telamont allowed the full weight of his glare to settle upon the diminutive wizard when he said, "It is apparent that you have come by the ability to shadow walk – though how, I have not yet determined – so I will say that if you flee the city, you will be killed without question. I do not think I need to tell you that I will find you, no matter how far you choose to run."

Aglarel appeared behind Aveil and seized her roughly at the elbow, knocking the Staff of Winter's Chill from her hand as he did so; Aveil growled at him but did not attempt to struggle, saying, "Is this the great justice of Thultanthar?! To imprison those that aid you and allow the true culprit to go free?!"

"That remains to be seen," said High Prince Telamont. "Aglarel – take her away."


	3. Chapter Two

In the impenetrable blackness in which he hovered helplessly, he heard voices.

_"…Truly proposing that we attempt to draw the sunlight out of his body ourselves?! The risk we take with such a procedure… One careless extraction… If his shadow orb is exposed to anymore sunlight, it will kill him!"_

_"I am well aware of the risks, brother, but you _will_ not question me on this matter. We risk far more by allowing the remaining shards of daylight to pass through his system naturally. Surely you have sensed that with every passing moment he grows weaker?"_

Were they talking about him? He tried to tell those vaguely familiar voices to leave him be, but he simply couldn't muster the strength to speak. It was as though he were floating just inches below the surface of a body of water, so close to reaching a state of coherency but still so helpless to alter the course of his current predicament. He attempted to reach a hand out toward them, to form any words with his lips, but it was as though his mind had detached itself from his body for he could not make his extremities obey.

_"Of course, but – "_

_"Have you another course of action better than the one I have proposed, Brennus?"_

_"No, Rivalen. Your logic is sound."_

_"As I thought. Dethud, have you an elixir?"_

_"I have exhausted my alchemical ingredients preparing this, though there is no guarantee it will help. If my calculations are correct, however, this should slow the effects of the lingering sunlight – and keep it from entering his shadow orb long enough for us to extract the rest."_

Why were they wasting their time fussing over him? Why weren't they combing the streets of Neverwinter looking for Lim Tal'eyve? And where was Aveil? Was she safe? Was she in their care?

_"It seems that he is even now struggling to regain consciousness – this will not do. A rush of adrenaline will only speed the remaining drops of daylight along to his shadow orb. Dethud? The sedative?"_

A sudden tingling sensation spread throughout his entire body, followed almost immediately by an all-consuming numbness; the figurative depths that kept him from awakening dragged him even further below the surface then, and Hadrhune lost his tentative grip on wakefulness.

Phendrana entered the tidy little residence that had been loaned to him and his friends for the duration of their stay in the city of Manifest to find Rosalles, Aidan, Ivy and Aust all grouped around the intricately-carved sitting room table, each holding a handful of playing cards and staring down at the small pile of trinkets and coins that littered the wood beneath their elbows. Behind him the slightly-luminous and very translucent ghostly visage of the gloaming Zerena Desini clapped her cherubic hands over her mouth and let out a breath of musical laughter, and the similarly see-through form of half-drow Alax Targren chuckled and shook his head as though highly amused. The mirth flew from Phendrana's face in the next moment, though, when Aust kicked his dusty boots upon the table, scattering coins everywhere as he held a rolled sheaf of ancient-looking parchment out toward the doppelganger as he asked loftily, "So… when are you gonna tell us what this is?"

Running a hand down his face Phendrana admitted himself, gesturing for Zerena and Alax to make themselves at home upon one of the many pieces of simple yet plush sitting room furniture around them; he waved off Ivy's offer of ale with a kind-hearted smile before drawing a three-legged chair up to the table, and seating himself between Aidan and Rosalles he resolved to have the conversation he had been dreading for the last several days.

The secretive doppelganger known as Phendrana had lived nearly twelve centuries of hardships, yet not long ago he had decided that the most recent handful of years had been the most taxing on him by far. It wasn't that he didn't love his friends unconditionally – far from it, in fact, for they were the only people in the world who not only knew his true identity, but loved him all the more for it. He had first begun to drop his guard a few years ago, when he had followed Aidan, Aust and Ivy down the Spine of the World for some much needed leisure time upon the beaches of the infamous Baldur's Gate coast. Their self-imposed vacation had lasted little more than half an hour, when after enough alcohol to reduce Aust and Ivy both to little more than senseless drunkards they had been approached by one Duke Eltan, the authority on that stretch of sand and sea. It happened that the duke knew of their reputations and was seeking a handful of sellswords to deploy with one of his finest vessels, captained by none other than renown seafarer Alvaro Rosalles as he embarked on a crusade against hostile pirates pillaging the region. Never ones to turn down the prospect of riches and adventure they had readily agreed, and after only a few days in Rosalles's company Phendrana found that he had become deeply infatuated with the man.

There were many problems with this, unfortunately, the least of which was the simple fact that they were both men – the largest problem was that, at the time, no one on the face of Faerun knew that Phendrana even existed.

For most of his life Phendrana had been hiding behind the identities of others, taking on the likeness of fallen heroes the world over in order to help them realize their life's pursuits, as it were; somewhere in that most noble of lifestyle choices the doppelganger had experienced a curious mental phenomenon in which his brilliant subconscious had fractured itself, assimilating the personalities of each of those fallen heroes into his own mind and utilizing each depending on the nature of any given situation. Because of the unorthodox way the doppelganger had chosen to live his life, therefore, he had passed beyond anyone's knowledge; this had not posed a problem of any sort until he had started to develop emotional attachments to others, Rosalles in particular.

Even those he named friends – Aidan, Aust and Ivy – hadn't a clue that they were being deceived. From the moment Phendrana had met them he had been impersonating an aasimar paladin by the name of Kiora Silvenstorm, whose final life's pursuit was to eliminate the man who had murdered her entire family. This was the individual they truly believed they were acquainted with and had never once suspected that the real Kiora had died many years ago; this was also the woman whom Alvaro Rosalles became enamored with, further complicating matters. In the end the choice was made for him by an outside influence who had wanted nothing more than to ruin Phendrana's life in any way possible, but the unthinkable had happened: instead of abandoning him, as the doppelganger had assumed they would, those whom he loved had resolved to stand by him and help him exorcise those demons.

Except that those demons had then come down from Thultanthar, looking for Leevoth's killer.

Captain Leevoth had been something of a decorated war hero within the City of Shade – unfortunately he had also been the man who had murdered Kiora Silvenstorm and her family when the aasimar was barely an adolescent. Phendrana and his friends had eventually tracked Leevoth down in their travels and ended his life, not knowing just how far Thultanthar's reach was capable of stretching or the lengths they were willing to go to practice their own brand of justice against those who had wronged them. To date the Princes of Shade hadn't been barbaric in their ways in the slightest – they had reported the identity of Leevoth's killer to Most High Telamont, but thus far it seemed that their judicious decision on that matter had all but ground to a complete halt. Phendrana suspected the reason for this had a great deal to do with him, for from the moment they had laid eyes upon him the Princes of Shade had been very curious as to his opinions and ideals. At first Phendrana had paid them little heed, for they had seemed little more than usurpers and warlords, but over time the doppelganger's opinion of them and their society had changed quite a bit; he had seen firsthand in their initial negotiations with the Lords of Waterdeep how quick the world was to villainize the Princes of Shade, and just how corrupt the grand kingdom of Waterdeep truly was. Since that incident he had been working in increasingly close proximity with the Tanthul family on a variety of matters, foremost of which happened to be the scroll currently clutched in Aust's hand.

The seemingly nondescript roll of parchment was actually a centuries-old artifact called a Nether Scroll, one of a handful of such documents dating back to the rise of the Netherese Imperium that detailed the closely-guarded secrets of Netheril's archwizards. This particular scroll had been gathering dust in a library in the city of Manifest when a budding wizard completely unrelated to the Netherese had begun his search for it, thus alerting High Prince Telamont to its existence. Desperate to secure the artifact but unable to spare any of his sons whilst on the verge of the next phase of his conquest Telamont had enlisted Phendrana to journey to Manifest; once there Phendrana had asked his lost heroes and friends to aid him in his quest, and together they had recovered the scroll.

The problem he now faced was not how to explain the existence of the scroll; that in itself would be quite simple. No, Phendrana's dilemma was how to tell those who had placed their faith and trust in him that he was ready to leave their company, and pursue a higher calling in the City of Shade.

Phendrana did his best to ease them into the conversation, one that he was certain would be emotionally devastating for all of them; he leaned his weight against the table, arms out in front of him with his abnormally long fingers laced together. "That is one of the Nether Scrolls. It is what the Princes of Shade have been seeking, and the reason I have come to Manifest at all."

"Yeah… we know that." Aust was unrolling the scroll now, leaving dirty smudges on the thin parchment and making Phendrana wince. "I mean, what's it do? Is it a spell or something? 'Cause these markings, they don't look like any language I've ever seen before… and I'm part Elf."

Phendrana held out his hand for the scroll and accepted it when Aust passed it over, and he abided Rosalles and Aidan glancing over his shoulder at the scroll's contents as he perused it with a practiced eye. For his part, Phendrana had to agree – the odd inscriptions penned in a cramped and archaic hand didn't resemble any words the doppelganger had ever seen. "This is the sacred language of ancient Netheril, if I am not mistaken," he explained tolerantly. "Doubtless the reason it makes little sense to us is because Netheril is a kingdom far older than any of us here."

"And you're just gonna… hand it over to those… shade people?" asked Aust haltingly, raising one unruly rust-colored eyebrow as he voiced his inquiry.

"Of course," Phendrana answered slowly, seeming puzzled. "What reason do I have to keep it from them? By their birthright, it belongs to them without question."

"And we wouldn't dream of protesting," put in Ivy timidly, "if we believed the scroll was the only thing the shade people were intending to lay claim to."

Phendrana had been anticipating these protests – truth be told he was surprised they had waited this long to voice their concerns. Glancing over his shoulder to where Zerena and Alax relaxed, looking as normal as two semi-corporeal forms possibly could, he said, "My friends, I think perhaps you should leave me for now."

Alax nodded once and headed out the door without a word; Zerena floated over, her dark wings fluttering behind her, and embraced the doppelganger with a warm smile before following suit. Then Phendrana turned back to the room at large, wiped a hand shakily across his brow, and said the last words they had been expecting to hear.

"I am… considering the High Prince's offer."

A stunned and devastated silence descended upon the room, sapping the camaraderie out of the air as quickly as a blizzard kills all life.

On the evening following Thultanthar's first round of negotiations with the Lords of Waterdeep Phendrana had been approached by Ninth Prince Vattick, one of the Princes of Shade and a member of the peaceable delegation that had sought an audience with Open Lord Piergieron Paladinson. He had been companionable enough, engaging Phendrana in playful sport and banter and even being patient enough to answer a few of the doppelganger's most earnest questions about the City of Shade and the more closely-guarded secrets of the Shadovar's way of life, but he had made the reason for his visit clear early on. The High Prince had taken an interest in Phendrana, his unusual talents and his seemingly limitless potential, and through his son he had extended an invitation for Phendrana to take a position of prestige within Thultanthar – a seat upon the Shadow Council, the governing body of the city.

Additionally, however, High Prince Telamont wanted to make Phendrana a shade.

The particulars of this transformation were still a bit hazy to the doppelganger, though he knew a few responsibilities that came with trading his soul for the essence of purest shadow – he would be almost fatally vulnerable to direct sunlight for the rest of his days unless he took the necessary preventative measures to protect himself, and he would be at the constant beckon call of the Most High and the Twelve Princes of Shade. Most importantly, however, it would mean severing his ties to everyone who had ever known him in the World Below – including his dear friends Aidan, Aust, and Ivy, as well as Rosalles, arguably the only person who had ever passionately loved Phendrana for who he truly was.

This admission was met with reactions similar to those Phendrana had anticipated; Rosalles ran one gloved hand through his hair, his clear blue eyes unmistakably troubled, and said, "What do you mean, you are considering the offer? Can you not see that the High Prince means to mold you into a weapon befitting his needs?"

"He has promised to reward you handsomely for your cooperation and your sacrifices," Aidan added, looking stern, "but is there a reward in all the world that can serve as adequate compensation for the loss of your humanity?"

Phendrana shook his head as though irritated and leaned toward them, desperate to make them understand his stance on the matter but at a loss as to how. "Believe me, my friends, the things that I will lose have seldom left my thoughts since the moment the proposition was made. But please, try to understand… I have spent so many years toiling about other people's labors, it occurs to me now just what I want to accomplish with my life. I want to be a part of something far greater than myself, something that Faerun will talk about long after I am gone, and the more I consider the proposition that has been laid before me the more I come to believe that this is the higher calling for which I have been searching."

Abruptly Aust was furious; he leapt from his seat so quickly that it overturned and bounced away, and leaning forward he slammed both hands upon the table, making the loose coins tremble. "What are you talking about?! You've spent Hells knows how many years busting your arse doing good things for other people, and now you've got it in your head that the single greatest thing you can do with your life is give up everything that makes you a person and spend the years you've got left in servitude to guys who _aren't even good?!_"

Phendrana jumped to his feet also, meeting Aust's furious glare with one of equal intensity. "How can you in good conscience slander them so?! Have they not aided us on multiple occasions?! Were you not allowed to dwell within Villa Cloveri while I attended to the Nether Scroll, where the High Prince's own mountebank made your comfort her first priority?!"

"Of course, Phendrana," murmured Ivy placatingly, twisting her chubby hands in her lap. "But – "

"And did Prince Brennus not stand with us the first time we stumbled upon Ishka in the wild?!"

This proved to be a bad example, for in the next instant Rosalles had slammed his fist upon the table in a sudden fit of rage. "Now we come to the heart of your motivations! That is the real reason for your sudden change of heart, is it not?! That shade, Brennus… he desires you for his own! He means to prey upon your affections so that he may deliver to the High Prince precisely what he wants! Will you play right into their hands, Phendrana?! Are you so blind that you will be the sheep they lead to slaughter?!"

"Now is hardly the time or place for your jealousies!" cried Phendrana, and Rosalles flinched back as though the doppelganger had physically harmed him. "Do my personal wishes mean so little to you?! Here is my chance to accomplish more than I have ever dared, and this is how you choose to respond?! Forgive me for wishing to do more with my life than spend my days sailing the same endless waves, or drowning in the bottom of the next night's bottle of ale!"

"How dare you!" Aust roared. "What gives you the right to belittle our lives, simply because you feel they are less meaningful than your own?!"

"When one person's dream is to better the world through any means possible and the other person desires nothing more than to see just how incoherent he can become, I think the answer is obvious!" Phendrana hissed, and just as Aust's hand was plunging to his belt to retrieve a weapon a shadow appeared upon the wall closest to them, peeled itself away from the plaster, and solidified into a familiar figure. It was none other than Twelfth Prince Brennus; he stumbled toward Phendrana with a wild and desperate look in his eyes, gasping for breath.

"Phendrana! By the Moon, it is fortunate that I have found you!" Brennus chose to ignore the fact that everyone in the room except for the doppelganger himself had a hand resting upon a weapon now. "I am afraid that I must ask even more of you, my friend, and that is why I have come."

The doppelganger looked appropriately puzzled, though he did have the presence of mind to push the only slightly-wrinkled sheaf of parchment that was the fabled Nether Scroll into the loremaster's outstretched hand. "You have not come for this?"

Brennus tucked the scroll into the inside pouch of his arcanist's robes and offered Phendrana a fleeting grin of thanks. "Not this time, though I thank you on behalf of all of Thultanthar for the great service you have performed. No, today I beg your assistance in saving the life of one of our own."

This admittance was startling; Phendrana felt his eyes widen. "Who?"

"Hadrhune, the Most High's shadow sorcerer and personal emissary. He was mortally wounded by a daylight spell that was introduced into his body internally, and at present his life hangs in the balance."

The situation sounded dire to Phendrana, and a helpless sort of sensation washed over him when he said, "I confess that I know little of the procedure that must be necessary to save him. What could I possibly offer you?"

"Despite the nature of his injuries Hadrhune is even now attempting to awaken; we introduced a sedative into his system but the effects are quickly wearing off." Brennus eyed Phendrana sheepishly, ashamed to be asking for more from him. "One of the others is a cerebrex, is he not?"

Within his mind, Phendrana felt Alax stir and begin to pay closer attention. "Alax is, but why?"

"My brother Rivalen believes that if we introduce Alax into Hadrhune's mind, he may be able to access and shut down the appropriate parts of his brain. At this point our biggest concern is that Hadrhune will become fully aware of what is happening and begin to panic, and if the sunlight starts moving through his body any faster than it already is…" Brennus trailed off uncertainly, but Phendrana understood enough of shade physiology to know that the High Prince's emissary was in a great deal of trouble indeed.

To Phendrana, the choice was an obvious one. "I will go with you at once."

Aidan was the first to react, sliding from her seat and laying a hand across her double-bladed sword as she eyed Brennus most inhospitably. "Out of the question."

"I will do as I please!" growled Phendrana, at last losing his patience with them. "The choice is mine to make!"

But his friends hardly seemed to be listening now; they were unsheathing weapons and moving into position, flanking Brennus on all sides. Rosalles held his rapier aloft when he addressed the shade prince, saying, "If you truly mean to take Phendrana away from us, you must get through us first! We will not stand idly by while you continue to corrupt him!"

Brennus crossed his arms and eyed Rosalles disdainfully; the expression he wore was not unlike one a person displayed when they discovered something unsightly on the bottom of a shoe. "I think you should put your weapons away, captain. I have no intention of fighting you and your rabble – I have more pressing matters to attend to. Besides, the lot of you would have no chance against me if I truly wished to engage you in battle." He glanced toward Phendrana almost beseechingly. "Phendrana, I really must protest. This is a matter of great importance."

"I know it is," sighed Phendrana, and he held out one hand in the loremaster's direction. "Let us go now."

"Phendrana!" cried Rosalles, his eyes wild with terror. "I beg of you, don't do this! If you go with him, I… I will rescind my feelings for you!"

The mercenary's words brought a chill coursing down Phendrana's spine and a shocked hush down upon the room at large, and it was in that moment – the moment when Rosalles used his feelings for Phendrana as a threat – that the doppelganger's path forward became clearer to him than it had ever been. He gazed upon each of them with the most profound sadness they had ever witnessed before very quietly saying, "Then I shall rescind mine also. My friends… I love you beyond reason and logic, but I see now that you will forever be incapable of returning that love as unconditionally as I have. I believe this is my purpose… Even if I am wrong, on my own head be it. All my life I have wanted nothing more than to be a part of something greater than I am – here now is my chance, and I refuse to waste it." Tears formed in the doppelganger's protuberant eyes, and he finished, "This is the last time that we will see one another."

Abruptly, little Ivy burst into tears. "W-What?! Phendrana, please…"

Twelfth Prince Brennus appeared at Phendrana's side then, and there was nothing left to say. "I am truly sorry."

The loremaster slipped his hand into Phendrana's and tugged him gently into the Realm of Shadow, leaving Phendrana with nothing to remember of his friends save the stricken looks on their faces.

Brennus led the way forward through the seemingly endless curtains of murk, clenching Phendrana's hand in his own so tightly that the doppelganger's bones ached. As he was stumbling along in the prince's wake Phendrana heard the whisper of Brennus's voice waft back to meet him: "Phendrana, I am truly sorry."

"I suspected it might end this way," said Phendrana flippantly, though the fissure of pain tearing through his chest threatened to make its way into his voice. "No amount of reassurance could convince them. They made up their minds the moment this circumstance became an issue."

"Do you truly wish to accept the High Prince's offer, and live out the rest of your days in Thultanthar?"

It occurred to Phendrana suddenly that he had nowhere to go, and the feeling of loneliness that washed over him then was almost crippling. Choking back a dry sob he muttered, "If he will have me. I know that I have been most unaccommodating and that I have made the High Prince wait far too long for a proper response. I would not be surprised to find that the offer no longer stands."

Brennus scoffed, and then barked out a laugh. "Fear not. The Most High is still very much interested in making an arrangement that is favorable to you both. I am certain that he will be most pleased to visit with you… after our business with Hadrhune is complete, that is."

Phendrana opened his mouth to ask the first of his questions regarding the seneschal's condition, but before he could do so Brennus had tugged him through a rift in the Shadow Weave and back into the World of the Living. They found themselves in a well-lit room equipped with all manner of odd surgical instruments that the doppelganger had never laid eyes on, and in the center of a room stood two shades working furiously over a third, who was bolted down to a surgical table and screaming.

"Thank the Night Mother that you have returned!" cried Rivalen, whose two hands were the consistency of vapor as he regarded them. "His condition has worsened. He is now fully conscious."

"His body has burned through the last of the sedative," added Dethud. "He will be dead in mere minutes if the procedure continues to progress in this vein!"

"Phendrana," breathed Brennus, squeezing the doppelganger's hand briefly as though to impart courage, "you must be quick."

The doppelganger nodded once and plunged deep into his subconscious, where the six assimilated personalities of deceased and avenged heroes were always at his constant beckon call. _Alax! We must hurry!_ And with some ulterior sense he had always possessed he felt the moment when the half-drow's presence reached out toward him and their likenesses began to merge and intertwine; the three princes watching had a fleeting view of Phendrana standing before them in a catatonic state of complete incoherency, and in the next moment the cerebrex Alax Targren stood in his place.

"Remarkable," breathed Seventh Prince Dethud, and Alax moved past him to stand near Hadrhune's head.

"Brennus! I need your help extracting daylight particles!" shouted Rivalen, and then Alax had set his sensitive fingertips in place upon Hadrhune's temples and became completely oblivious to anything that occurred in the operating room thereafter. They worked in silence after that, Alax toiling within the darkest recesses of the seneschal's mind to keep him unconscious and the three princes painstakingly drawing the remnants of sunlight away from Hadrhune's shadow orb, until at last Hadrhune stopped screaming.

After a solid two hours of listening to Aveil restlessly pacing the length of her prison cell, Fourth Prince Aglarel had had enough. Melting into the stonework that comprised the floor of the detainment area he rematerialized in the dank little room in which the wizard was being held captive, and crossing his arms over his chest he drawled, "Why are you so troubled? If you are truly innocent of this crime, you have no reason to be concerned. When Hadrhune wakes and gives his testimony to the Most High you will be released."

Aveil stopped her pacing long enough to crook one thin, dark eyebrow in the Shadovar assassin's direction. "Oh? And you are certain that Hadrhune will wake, then?"

When she put it that way, Aglarel had to admit that he understood her concern a little better. Hoping to assuage her he said, "I am certain of it. The Most High chooses his attendants with a great deal of care, and Hadrhune has been in his employ for nearly two millennia. Do you truly believe that the lichdrow is strong enough to pose a genuine threat to the Right Hand of the High Prince?"

For the first time, a glimmer of faint hope shone in Aveil's eyes. "Aha! Then you believe that Lim Tal'eyve is at fault for this, and that I am innocent!"

Aglarel rolled his silver eyes to the ceiling, already tiring of the Archmistress's melodrama. "That is irrelevant. Do I believe that you perpetrated this crime? No. Am I under the impression that you did everything in your power to deliver Hadrhune to safety? Yes. But my opinions mean nothing – all of the evidence could be stacked in your favor, but if the Most High chooses to condemn you then condemn you he shall. He is the authority on all matters."

Aveil leaned her weight back against the opposite wall, dropping her face into her hands. "Then all is surely lost. The Most High is not particularly… fond of me."

A low, raspy chuckle welled up from deep within Fourth Prince Aglarel's chest. "And why do you think that is, Archmistress? It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that you have twice now slipped past our security network and admitted yourself into the city without permission, could it?"

What little color remained in Aveil's cheeks veritably drained out of her face at these words; when she dropped her hands it was plain to see that her unusual violet eyes were wide with fear. "You… You know about that? The _High Prince_ knows about that?!"

"Foolish girl," chuckled Aglarel, "of _course_ the Most High knows of these things – the Most High sees all that happens here in Thultanthar, and many occurrences that play out beyond the boundaries of the enclave. You may be the highest power where you come from, but here you are an insignificant little insect who has stumbled into affairs far greater than you could ever hope to be. Never forget this: if you dishonor the High Prince, or act in a way that he views as tasteless, or you cease to be useful to him, he will utterly destroy you."

"I long to be gone from this place," Aveil admitted, rubbing her arms for warmth. "When I am acquitted of this I will likely never return."

Aglarel observed Aveil for many long seconds, his eyes barely visible from beneath the low-pulled cowl he wore, before saying thoughtfully, "You assume that the Most High will allow you to leave."

That was all it took to incite Aveil to a frenzy; she jolted away from the wall as though it had electrocuted her and stalked forward until she and the prince were standing only a few inches apart. Seizing the front of his cowl with both hands she dragged him down to her level – a considerable distance, for Aveil stood just under five feet – and hissed, "He would presume to hold me here against my will when I have committed no crime?! Am I not free to come and go as I please?! I am a free citizen, and I owe nothing to you or your society!"

"That may be," agreed the Fourth Prince idly, shaking Aveil's grip off easily and stepping back a step, "but you see, the Most High has uses for you yet. At present you seem to be the only real link we have to the lichdrow Lim Tal'eyve – for whom the High Prince has developed quite an interest – and though you are presumptuous, arrogant, and overly ambitious you possess a great deal many other qualities that he values."

Aveil eyed him skeptically. "Such as?"

Aglarel failed to stifle another chuckle, saying, "Shar only knows. I will say this – were I the High Prince, I would be most impressed by your tenacity. One cannot say that you give up easily, or that you are not a force to be reckoned with, that much is certain."

Twelfth Prince Brennus admitted himself to the Palace Most High in the hopes that the High Prince wouldn't refuse to see him when he arrived; thankfully the moment he materialized next to the world window the Most High greeted him warmly enough, even going so far as to clap him companionably upon the shoulder.

"My son," crooned Telamont, slinging an arm bracingly around Brennus's shoulders and half-hugging him to his side. "It is good that you have returned, and in such a timely manner. Perhaps you will never know the depth of my appreciation for the great service you and your brothers have done for me this day, but I assure you that my gratitude knows no bounds. I daresay that both Hadrhune and I are forever in your debt."

Brennus waved a hand negligently in an attempt to seem modest, but his answering smile showed that he was obviously glowing with pride. "The thanks belong to Rivalen, for the majority of the work fell to him. I am pleased to report that not only will Hadrhune survive, he is already well on his way to making a full recovery. Rivalen toiled ceaselessly for his cause and has successfully extracted the last of the lichdrow's daylight spell. Hadrhune's shadow orb is intact."

Telamont nodded along. "The shadows that bind him are among the strongest I have seen in my long lifetime." Then he dropped his arm from Brennus's shoulders and turned back to the world window, where it seemed he had been watching the entire procedure unfold – the enchanted looking-glass showed Hadrhune reclining half-conscious upon the surgical table and Seventh Prince Dethud moving about him slowly, monitoring his progress. "He has said that the lichdrow did this?"

"Yes, High Prince." Brennus watched Telamont out of the corner of his eye, adding in a careful tone, "He has requested an audience with you, and he has been asking for Archmistress Arthien as well."

"I will meet with him shortly. Have you any other news to report?"

Brennus knew full well just what news his sovereign and father was waiting to hear, so he cleared his throat delicately and said, "I made with all haste to the city of Manifest and located Phendrana easily. Not only did he agree to return to Thultanthar and lend a hand in Hadrhune's recovery, he turned over the Nether Scroll that the so-called 'lost ones' were able to recover from the Imaskari apprentice. I have the scroll in my keeping and will begin analyzing it as soon as I am able."

Telamont was staring down into the world window and watching Hadrhune fidget restlessly beneath Dethud's strange instruments with a faraway look in his eyes, though the slight curve of his lips suggested that he was pleased by what he had heard. "And you will be delivering him safely back to Manifest now that his task here is complete, I assume?"

The loremaster was pleased to be the one who gave the High Prince his next bit of news, for it included tidings that Telamont had been hoping to hear for a great many weeks. "No, Most High One. Phendrana has at last made his decision – he has chosen to accept your generous proposal, and make the City of Shade his home from this point forward."

Abruptly Telamont's mood shifted from brooding to jubilant; he embraced his youngest son emphatically but briefly, his ceremonial fangs showing as he grinned with exultation. "This is wonderful news! We have much to do. The evening meeting of the Shadow Council will commence as planned, and I expect you all to be there. In addition, I would very much enjoy it if both Phendrana and Archmistress Arthien were to attend."

Brennus met this proclamation with an odd mixture of pleasure and caution. "…High Prince? This is most irregular…"

"Yes, however, these are irregular times that we are guiding our city through, are they not? Phendrana is of Cormyr and so by birth he is of Netherese descent – however distant that bloodline may be. And the Archmistress will be the key to unlocking all that we might yet learn of this lichdrow, Lim Tal'eyve. I think we have much to learn from them both, do you not agree?"

The High Prince's tone left little room for debate; Brennus wisely conceded his father's will and bowed low. "Of course, Most High One. If there is any way I might further assist you, you have only to ask and I will see it done."

Telamont waved his hand elegantly over the world window, and responding to his unspoken will the slightly-rippling surface distorted; the fragmented image of Dethud and Hadrhune faded to black, and in the next instant they were glimpsing the pacing form of Aveil Arthien as she cast dark glances at the cell walls keeping her imprisoned. "Perhaps you should visit Aglarel and pass on the decree that the Archmistress is to be allowed out of her little cage… It appears as though she is not taking kindly to captivity. Have Aglarel extend to her an invitation to sit with us during tonight's conference and inform him that he is to keep an eye on her until I have ascertained whether or not she can be trusted to roam freely about the enclave. I do not expect that she will be any trouble, but one can never be too certain in these situations." The image in the world window changed again then, displaying a heavily-fatigued Phendrana propped against a wall in one corner of the operating room; the mindmaster had reverted back to his natural form and seemed to be dozing lightly despite his unfamiliar surroundings. "For now I would ask you to accompany Phendrana – take him back to Villa Tareia with you and see that he has ample opportunity to receive rest and nourishment. Should any other needs of his arise, attend to them as best you may. I will speak with him privately this evening after our twilight gathering and better assess the situation afterward… Will that be a terrible inconvenience to you, as you research the Nether Scroll?"

Brennus clasped his hands before him and bowed very low to show that he understood the scope of his new duties. "Absolutely not, Most High One; I would be honored to attend to Phendrana on your behalf. Now if you will excuse me, I will carry out your wishes."

"You are a great comfort to me," said Telamont in a tone of warm dismissal. "Go with my thanks."

Twelfth Prince Brennus shadow-walked out of the High Prince's audience chamber – bound, no doubt, for the dungeons – as simultaneously Most High Telamont melted into his own shadow and spirited away to visit with Hadrhune.

By the time the High Prince appeared in the recovery ward Hadrhune was sitting up in bed and arguing with Dethud about whether or not he could be released; he snapped to attention when Telamont materialized, and the corner of the Most High's mouth turned upward briefly into a smile of genuine amusement.

"He refuses to heed my warnings about his condition!" exclaimed the Seventh Prince, and he threw his hands into the air in utter frustration. "With your permission, High Prince, I will take my leave. Rivalen left moments ago and I confess myself fatigued as well. The procedure was not an easy one."

Telamont nodded his acquiescence. "Go with my gratitude, and pass on to your brother Rivalen that his sentence has been lifted. I will see you both in council later this evening." The necromancer bowed himself out of the room, moving slowly and with great care, and when he had excused himself the High Prince turned back to his chosen emissary with a slight frown. "Leaving your sick bed already? I must insist that if you do depart, you return to Villa Cambria and find some rest there. Archmistress Arthien brought you to the audience hall upon arrival, and I confess – I have never seen you in such a state."

Hadrhune rose from the cot Second Prince Rivalen had deposited him upon following the conclusion of the procedure and dipped a slight, very stiff bow, wincing all the while; High Prince Telamont pushed him back onto the cot easily, and the seneschal seemed quite relieved to be reclining again. "Please accept my sincerest apologies, Most High One – I am ashamed to have been in your presence while in such a deplorable state."

"Nonsense, Hadrhune," scoffed Telamont, waving one shadowy hand dismissively, "I refuse to accept such a ludicrous apology. Few shades in all of Thultanthar could have walked away from such an ordeal with their lives; your actions were noble, and I thank you for your unfailing service to me this day. You have accomplished a great many things – you thwarted the lichdrow's efforts to return to the world of the living, and you saved the Archmistress. Shar will surely bestow her favor upon us all."

"High Prince, about the Archmistress – " Hadrhune began quickly, with the air of one on the verge of launching into a hurried and lengthy tirade, but Telamont raised a hand to indicate that he should save his words and the seneschal wisely fell silent.

"Stay your protests – I have already given instructions for the Archmistress to be released. She was imprisoned upon your arrival and Aglarel kept watch over her, but she has not been mistreated in any way. She should be returning with Aglarel to Villa Hara any moment now and will be joining us for the twilight gathering this evening along with the doppelganger Phendrana, who has graciously agreed to remain in the City of Shade. We are most fortunate."

"Indeed," murmured Hadrhune, his amber gaze far-off and distracted, "most fortunate." There was a beat of silence, presumably during which the seneschal weighed his options, and then he added, "Most High One, with your permission I would like to intercept the Archmistress and escort her back to Villa Cambria with me. She knows very little of our city and may feel more comfortable spending her time with someone she is familiar with. This ordeal has undoubtedly been taxing on her as well."

Telamont privately admitted that he was quite impressed with his emissary's speech; thus far Hadrhune was doing an admirable job of feigning disinterest in Aveil's company, but the High Prince missed nothing that occurred within Thultanthar and wasn't in the least bit fooled by the nature of the seneschal's request. "I thought it best if you returned on your own and found a few hours of rest before the Shadow Council meets, and so I have left the Archmistress in Aglarel's company. I thought it the clear choice, given the fact that she and Aglarel are already familiar with one another through their numerous business dealings in the past through the Citadel of Assassins… do you think me wrong in this?"

There was virtually no way that Hadrhune could argue that point, for to do so would be as disastrous as outwardly admitting to the presence of unfamiliar emotional stirrings for Aveil that he himself had yet to identify; instead he nodded along sagely and said, "A wise choice, Most High One. I will heed your advice and return to my abode to find some rest. I will not be late to our meeting this evening."

"Very good, Hadrhune," said Most High Telamont with a smile that was almost serene. "Very good."


	4. Chapter Three

Phendrana awoke slowly and groggily to find that he was no longer curled up in a corner of the surgical ward, and when he became coherent enough to take a look around he couldn't help wondering just where he had wound up. He was stretched out in a large four-poster carved out of fine ebony, made with silky black sheets and strewn with plush black velvet pillows; he lifted one hand to rub his eyes and felt a small bite of panic when he discovered that his jade circlet had been removed.

_On the end table_, offered Kiora's voice helpfully from within the depths of his mind, and Phendrana glanced to his left to see that the enchanted circlet was indeed there, along with his gauntlets. The nightstand was also artfully hewn ebony, but the only other effect was a small glass of water dripping tiny beads of condensation so he assumed it was a practical piece only. At the base of the nightstand his boots lay propped, along with his belt of weapons. Propping himself on one elbow the mindmaster blinked until his eyes had adjusted to the near-complete lack of light, and gradually the rest of the room came into sharper focus.

For all intents and purposes, it seemed the room he now occupied was a cluttered but quaint combination of private library, alchemy lab, and master bedroom. Each of the walls were lined with lovely bookcases adorned with intricate carvings and packed with hundreds of old volumes; some of the spines were so weathered they were illegible, and still others were embroidered with strange symbols he didn't recognize and odd phonetics from languages he never knew existed. Situated in one corner was a squat table with broad legs, upon which glass vials of various shapes and sizes were organized in no particular order; the center was rounded much like a bowl and the contents were a vivid green which emitted a shimmery sort of mist that smelled curiously of eucalyptus. Opposite the alchemy table was a set of floor to ceiling windows framed with heavy violet curtains that stood open, revealing a glimpse of a wide balcony on the other side, and perpendicular to that stood a large desk lit with tall candles burning a deep magenta flame. The desk was strewn with massive tomes open to specific pages, sheaves of parchment that had been scrawled upon in a cramped but tidy hand, and quills topped with various exotic feathers from birds that Phendrana had no names for. Sitting in a high-backed study chair and bent over a slightly-rolled piece of yellowing parchment was Twelfth Prince Brennus, reading the parchment's contents by the light of the nearest candle.

"Oh!" exhaled Phendrana in surprise, sitting bolt upright against the mound of velvet pillows, and the prince's curious bronze eyes flitted up from the parchment to regard the doppelganger.

"You are finally awake?" Brennus smiled kindly and released the scroll, allowing it to roll back up before laying it aside and abandoning his study chair; he had removed his loremaster's robes, which he had laid neatly over the back of the chair, and beneath it he wore a simple black silk tunic and matching trousers that were quite roomy on him. Circling the desk he drew near to the side of the bed and looked down upon Phendrana as though appraising his condition; it was odd, Phendrana thought, but not altogether unwelcome. "I wondered if it would be necessary to wake you before the twilight gathering, but I see you are coming around… and perhaps soon enough to eat before we depart. Shall I have some food sent up for you?"

"Perhaps in a moment," Phendrana mumbled nervously, his unnaturally large eyes darting around as he absorbed his new surroundings. "Er… where are we?"

Brennus's left hand flew to his mouth as though he was suddenly embarrassed; his molten bronze eyes were warm and undeniably friendly. "Oh, do forgive me. This is Villa Tareia, my home in the Circle of Upper Thultanthar."

_Very descriptive,_ wheedled the voice of Ristel from within the ever-active recesses of Phendrana's subconscious mind, and several other voices could be heard shortly after shushing the taciturn water genasi.

"The… Circle?" asked the doppelganger, feeling more confused every passing instant.

"Each member of the Shadow Council retains a private residence in the plaza below the Palace Most High, where the High Prince resides and reigns supreme over the enclave," explained the loremaster patiently, plucking the glass of water off the end table and pushing it insistently into Phendrana's hand. "That collection of private residences is known as the Circle. To date there are fourteen villas here, though I suppose we will be breaking ground on one more before too long."

The recollection of just what Phendrana had turned his back on, the future he had thrown away and the people whose love and trust he had forsaken, all came rushing back to him then. He lifted the glass to his lips in an attempt to mask his sudden discomfort and took a swig; the liquid was cool and calmed him a bit, though his thoughts still reeled. "Am I to understand, then, that becoming a shade is the next crucial step in my end of the bargain? Is that the purpose of tonight's twilight gathering?"

Brennus blinked once slowly, quite taken aback by the sudden change in the timbre of their conversation, before breaking out into an uncontrollable smile; the doppelganger found that he was already quite taken by the loremaster's easy smile, all perfect ivory teeth and radiating warmth like sunshine. He perched himself on the edge of the elegant bedspread, tapping the glass with his index finger and prompting the mindmaster to take another swallow of water. "I really must insist that you relax, Phendrana. No, the purpose of tonight's twilight gathering is not to induct your formally into our ranks by making you a shade – quite the contrary, the issue of your transformation will likely not be on the High Prince's list of topics to discuss today. My instincts tell me that the Most High will wait a ten-day or two before discussing that matter with you."

"Truly?" inquired Phendrana, and the surprise was evident in his voice.

"Truly," chuckled Brennus, and rising he circled the four poster and moved for the door, and leaning out into the hallway he called, "Sharla? The meal, if you please?" He tugged the door closed behind him and turned back to face Phendrana, taking note of the obvious anxiety in the doppelganger's face and laughing openly this time as he returned to his seat at the foot of the bed. "I really must insist that you relax – if you intend to live out your life among us, you will be quite miserable indeed if you prove to be this squeamish with every topic of discussion! What has happened to make you so uncertain? Surely you are not having second thoughts about your decision?"

Phendrana was momentarily saved the trouble of answering when there sounded a polite knock on the door; turning his attention to the door he watched as a trio of dark-skinned Shadovar admitted themselves into the prince's private quarters laden with trays. They deposited their dishes piled with succulent-looking fruits, vegetables, cheeses and meats upon the wide dining table to the left of the door - always careful to keep their gazes fixed respectfully upon the floor, Phendrana noted with interest – before bowing themselves out the door. Brennus gestured to the table and even as he did so Phendrana heard his stomach growl with hunger, wringing another disarming chuckle from the loremaster. They adjourned to the dining table together, and sitting across from one another they began to load their plates with food.

There was silence during which Phendrana piled a slice of warm bread with slices of gala apple and cubes of gouda cheese, and only when the doppelganger had taken his first bite did Brennus choose to continue his train of thought. "Phendrana… I understand if you are afraid. To be completely honest with you, I would think you mad if you were not. Becoming a shade is a path that few within our grand city would follow voluntarily if given a choice; I can think of only one individual among us who coveted such a life for himself from the moment he arrived here, for reasons known only to himself – but that is a tale for another day, perhaps, and one that I am certain you will come to be familiar with in time. Had I not inherited such a legacy upon the day of my birth, I cannot say whether I would have chosen this life for myself."

_Honest to a fault,_ intruded Vadania's ever-skeptical voice, _or deceptively disarming?_

_I think it is obvious to all of us that the prince is genuine in his words,_ Zerena scolded gently, and then Phendrana swallowed and offered his own opinions.

"I confess – I am afraid." He took another slow sip of water from his glass, and when he replaced it Brennus politely refilled it from a jug that one of the Shadovar housekeepers had left behind. "When I spoke with Ninth Prince Vattick in Waterdeep all those weeks ago, and he first laid the High Prince's proposal before me, he mentioned that the procedure was quiet… painful."

The Twelfth Prince spread honey over a slice of warm bread and took a bite, for which Phendrana was very grateful; if he was prepared to be completely honest with himself, he was positively famished now. He had taken four more large bites of bread, apple and cheese by the time Brennus had finished one, and hoped that he wasn't coming across as crass. If Brennus noticed, he chose not to let on. "It is that, though how could it not be? When you consider what you are subjecting your body to… the removal of your mortal soul, and the adoption of the essence of shadow in its place… does that in itself not sound unpleasant? But you needn't worry," he added hurriedly, seeing the look of undiluted terror that had crossed Phendrana's face. "The pain subsides rather quickly, and then there is only a slight disorientation as you explore your newfound capabilities."

"If I may be so bold as to ask," Phendrana cut in curiously, "what exactly does that entail?"

The loremaster's bronze eyes glinted with something like excitement and he leaned forward, but as he was on the verge of disclosing all he knew there suddenly appeared three shadows upon the balcony; Phendrana watched them rise from the black marble and form solid shapes with his mouth slightly agape, though Brennus continued about his meal as though nothing at all were amiss, and after a moment First Prince Escanor, Soleil Chemaut, and Fifth Prince Clariburnus materialized from the darkness and admitted themselves into the loremaster's private chambers.

"Have you not heard?" exclaimed Clariburnus at once, striding off the balcony and onto the plush rug that covered the majority of the floor in Brennus's quarters. "The Most High has ordered Archmistress Arthien's release! She is even now residing within the enclave peaceably, and at the High Prince's behest!"

"Of course I have heard these things," scoffed Brennus, seeming unimpressed as he helped himself to a wedge of gorgonzola and a half-glass of Netherese heartwine. "I was the one who carried out her release, fool. And you may come in, by the by."

"You call your own brother a fool?" Clariburnus roared in mock outrage, and he swooped down upon the youngest prince and pulled him into a swift but companionable embrace. "I did not know the Most High charged you with it – had I known, I may have attempted to intervene."

He broke off with a wink that wrung a girlish giggle from Soleil and an impatient sigh from Brennus, who rolled his eyes with exaggerated annoyance in Phendrana's direction when he said, "Perhaps it has escaped your notice that I am entertaining a guest?"

Their eyes fell upon Phendrana then and Soleil was the first to approach him, bending at the waist and placing a swift kiss upon his cheek before smiling at him enthusiastically. "Phendrana! Prince Dethud mentioned that you were in the enclave somewhere. It's good that you've come! I confess – it will be a pleasant change not to be the only non-shade upon the Shadow Council for a time."

Seeing Phendrana's discomfort Escanor smoothly said, "I have heard tell that you assisted in the procedure that undoubtedly saved Hadrhune's life. You are to be commended, Phendrana! Know that this day you have the gratitude of us all, though not all of us may display it properly."

"Do not expect any thanks from Hadrhune," Soleil said darkly, her face growing sour. "He has little use or reason to adhere to proper social conduct."

The three princes and the mountebank shared a laugh at this, and Phendrana felt a smile curling up the corners of his mouth; their group camaraderie was impossible to mistake, and set many of his doubts and fears at ease. Feeling a sudden spurt of confidence he shifted in his chair to face them and said, "You seem very kind… I was not expecting that. Do you think me rude?"

Escanor dropped one hand down upon Phendrana's shoulder bracingly and gave it a companionable squeeze, saying, "Of course not. The general opinion outside of Thultanthar seems to be that the Netherese and the Shadovar are little more than bloodthirsty liars and corrupt warlords – and that opinion will not change any time soon if more acts of Rivalen's ilk are in our future."

Soleil's and Clariburnus's faces darkened at this, and Brennus seized their momentary silence to offer them chairs around the dining table; they accepted his offer graciously and set upon the generous spread of food almost immediately, helping themselves to all manner of meats and fruits. Phendrana helped himself to a fresh papaya and contented himself with simply listening to their conversation, considering it to be far more interesting than anything he had to offer them.

"Is it true that Rivalen ordered you to participate in the slaughter of the Lords of Waterdeep, brother?" Clariburnus pried, and Twelfth Prince Brennus sighed heavily and dropped a half-eaten pear down upon his plate.

"Regrettably, it is true," admitted the loremaster, "though I feel compelled to tell you that I am in no way proud of my actions. Had we not felt duty-bound to obey Rivalen's authority on the matter, perhaps none of us would have participated. I know that Mattick and Vattick are ashamed of what we did as well."

"The Most High has divulged that we will be discussing the next course of action for Waterdeep in greater detail this evening," Escanor told them, "though I think he will not place nearly as great an emphasis upon it as he will certain other topics."

"Namely…?" Brennus baited, and Escanor glanced sidelong at Clariburnus as though wordlessly prompting his warrior brother to address that question himself.

Unsurprisingly, Clariburnus acquiesced without protest. "Only a few nights ago we spied the Archmistress visiting Hadrhune in his private chambers… needless to say their meeting was rather… intimate in nature."

"Do tell," Soleil said insistently, and they all huddled conspiratorially closer around the table.

"The Archmistress was clearly divulging all that she knew of Lim Tal'eyve to Hadrhune," Clariburnus continued, "but certain mannerisms on both sides suggested that perhaps there was much more to their meeting than a simple exchange of information. At one point the Archmistress was rather scantily clad, shall we say, and the Most High himself later spied the pair of them abed together." He broke off to laugh at some private joke before adding, "Though to my understanding they were only sleeping, and no carnal knowledge was passed between them."

"I should hope not." Escanor's face was disapproving. "Not only is Aveil Arthien not of Netheril, she has twice now bypassed the security network that Aglarel himself has implemented and admitted herself into Thultanthar without invitation. If Hadrhune had carnal knowledge of the Archmistress several nights ago and the Most High was aware of it, it is likely that Hadrhune would have been branded a traitor and possibly cast out of the enclave for all time."

Phendrana found that he could not withhold one question. "But… why?"

"Archmistress Arthien is of the Citadel of Assassins," Brennus explained patiently, "and has arisen to a position that has not only empowered her with an extensive spell repertoire but also a wealth of information that perhaps she should not be privy to. Additionally she was once the prisoner of a fang dragon whose knowledge she preyed upon for years until she had discovered the means to destroy him, and Hadrhune himself has divulged that she is the rightful heir to a snow elf kingdom in the Spine of the World – if that is true she is of noble blood also and undoubtedly in possession of a great many valuable artifacts of ancient power. She also has ties to Lim Tal'eyve that are questionable in nature at best – I have heard rumors that he aided her in rising to the position of Archmistress of the Citadel, that she helped elevate him to become the Anointed Blade of the Jaezred Chaulssin, and even that she served as his concubine for a brief period of time."

"In her own words Escanor and I both heard that she was his prisoner when he returned to the World of the Living as a lichdrow and raised Castle Perilous, and that he was indirectly responsible for the death of the paladin King Gareth Dragonsbane," Clariburnus confided. "She also told Hadrhune that the lichdrow cut the unborn child from her belly and sacrificed it to Lolth while she was in captivity."

"It comes down to this: for all of these reasons, Aveil Arthien is at this point considered a threat to the City of Shade," summarized Escanor. "Her intentions here, both with Lim Tal'eyve and with Hadrhune, will be of great interest to the High Prince in the days to come. I suspect that until she has proven herself trustworthy the Most High will feel compelled to keep her under constant surveillance."

Soleil, who had been eating silently and thoughtfully all the while, suddenly set down her glass of heartwine and fixed Escanor with a raised eyebrow. "Of course I understand why we would all be better served keeping the Archmistress at arms' length for the time being, but there is something else I do not quite understand: what is her tie to Hadrhune? Why has she now twice admitted herself into the enclave and sought his counsel? Surely the intentions and whereabouts of Lim Tal'eyve are not such a concern to both of them that they would risk so much in consorting without the Most High's approval?"

"That," answered Escanor gravely, "is a question that none of us here can answer. You know that I hold little love for Hadrhune, for a great many reasons, but I confess – I fear for him now more than I ever have. His infatuation with Aveil Arthien represents a blatant disregard of all the qualities that the Most High has long prized him for upholding – discipline, dedication, willpower – and I feel that the next few ten-days will be a more accurate measure of his loyalty than the last eighteen hundred years have been. The High Prince elevated Hadrhune to the position he now holds at great personal risk – thus far it has been to our mutual advantage, but who are we to say what the future holds? It may come to pass yet that the elevation of Hadrhune will serve as our salvation – or the doom of us all."

"And now we have chatted our suppertime away," Brennus observed – a little stiffly, Phendrana thought, as though he disapproved of something that had occurred – and he passed a napkin briefly across his lips before pushing his chair a few inches away from the table. "I do hope the High Prince is not expecting a full translation of the Nether Scroll in council, for I have not quite finished it."

Clariburnus, Escanor and Soleil rose from their seats also, and Soleil briefly embraced the loremaster, saying, "There will be many pressing matters to attend to tonight, and while I would never presume to belittle your studies I think I can say with some confidence that the scroll will not be at the top of the Most High's priority list. You needn't worry."

Brennus offered another of his warm smiles and a polite little bow – ever the gentleman, Phendrana observed a little amusedly. "I do hope you're right, now be off. We will see you again shortly."

Soleil looped her arm with Escanor's as they stepped onto the balcony; turning back she waved her free hand in Phendrana's direction, and then the three of them had melted into their own shadows and vanished from the loremaster's villa. Brennus returned to the dining table just long enough to finish the last few bites of his pear, and then he was extinguishing candles and wrestling back into his loremaster's robes. Phendrana gulped the last of his glass of water and all but inhaled the rest of his papaya, savoring the sweet nectar as he rose from his seat and claimed his jade circlet and enchanted gauntlets from the end table. They faced one another when they were fully dressed, and at a gesture from Brennus they moved together from the private quarters of Villa Tareia and out onto the balcony.

"Now Phendrana," began Brennus, "This meeting will likely last longer than most of these sessions do as we have so many important topics to discuss, so allow me to make a few suggestions. Most importantly, do not interrupt any of the Princes of Shade when they have the floor for discussion – many of my brothers are less tolerant than I, and will protest most vehemently when overridden even by one of their superiors. The time will come for you to speak your mind on a variety of occasions, for the Most High runs this council most democratically and always wishes to hear the thoughts of every voice present. That being said, when the time comes for you to make your opinions known, do not hesitate to share your thoughts with us. One's opinion is never a crime upon our council, and all views are taken into careful consideration by the High Prince – the only crime is to remain silent, and to offer nothing." Then the Twelfth Prince smiled kindly, effectively dispelling Phendrana's fears. "You have only to stick close to me, and to remember what I have told you. All will be well if you do. Have you any questions?"

"I do not believe so," said Phendrana breathlessly, anxiety apparent in every syllable, and Brennus held out a hand for him to take.

"Then let us be off," said the loremaster, and joining hands they shadow-walked out of the villa.

The chamber where the Shadow Council met was situated in the Palace Most High just across from Telamont's audience hall. It was a sparsely-furnished room, perhaps the least grand in all the sweeping castle – one long black table set with fifteen chairs, the grandest of which stood at the head of the table and was where High Prince Telamont presided over each meeting. Tonight two more chairs had been set near the foot of the table, one beside Hadrhune and one next to Soleil, when Brennus shadow-walked into the room with Phendrana in tow. Few others had congregated there ahead of time, but it was bedlam already – Twin princes Mattick and Vattick stood on one side of the table very near one another with mutinous looks on their faces, and on the other side of the table wearing incensed expressions were Third Prince Lamorak and Eleventh Prince Melegaunt.

" – And total _chaos_ you have now caused!" Lamorak was saying when Brennus and Phendrana solidified back into themselves. "What must the people of Waterdeep think?!"

"Word has already spread to Silverymoon," Melegaunt hissed, leaning across the table and jabbing one finger in the twins' direction. "If the news of the murder of the Lords of Waterdeep has already reached beyond hundreds of miles, imagine all the places that now know of what you have done! Monarchs far and wide are even now putting up defenses against us, all on account of your lack of judgment! Do you think that after this there will remain any kingdoms in all of Faerun willing to enter into an alliance with Thultanthar?!"

Brennus dropped the doppelganger's hand, his bronze eyes blazing with rage; he motioned for Phendrana to take the seat at the very end of the right side of the table and strode forward to stand beside Mattick, saying, "What is this? You cannot stay your accusations until the Most High has arrived? This is most irregular, is it not? Surely the High Prince will be displeased to find you clambering about the council chamber like common rabble before the session has even begun."

Lamorak shook his hands free of his Determinist's Guild robes and slammed both palms down upon the table, his silvery eyes upon Brennus now. "You have the audacity to preach to us of the Most High's wishes, when just hours ago you were participating in this butchery?! Hypocrite! Stand down! It is clear to all within the City of Shade that the three of you, and Rivalen as well, know nothing of the High Prince's designs for this city or his desires for our futures!"

"Waterdeep and Silverymoon were meant to be the cornerstones of the Netherese Imperium," Melegaunt continued, "and what can we say of them now? That Waterdeep's populace will revolt against our presence within their walls until they have cast us out completely, and that Silverymoon will never come to regard us with anything other than open fear?!"

"And what would you have done?!" cried Brennus. "Would you have questioned the authority of your older brother as well, Lamorak? Would you have returned to the enclave to suffer in shame and degradation, as we certainly would have if we had thought we had such a choice?!"

_Just think,_ sighed Ristel from within Phendrana's ever-active mind, a smirk evident in his voice. _Soon you will be one of them, and you will be standing here bickering among them like one more of Telamont's squabbling children and calling meaningless arguments like these your 'life's work'._

_Ristel!_ scolded Zerena, but the elemental savant just laughed.

"Have you not noticed that we have a guest?" Brennus pointed out, and though Phendrana willed them to do otherwise he then found all five sets of eyes flitting in his direction. "What a fine impression you must be making upon him!"

"Let him bear witness, I say!" Lamorak shouted back, folding his arms over his chest. "He has a right to see all that transpires in this place! Should he not have all the luxuries of this choice? Does he not deserve to be presented with all of the facts so that he can make an informed, unbiased decision?"

"Do you truly think that he still retains the right to choose, now that he has come here?" Vattick laughed sarcastically, and it was fortunate then that Escanor, Clariburnus, Soleil, and Hadrhune all shadow-walked into the council chamber for Brennus had the look of a man considering homicide.

"Enough!" bellowed First Prince Escanor, and escorting Soleil to her seat beside Phendrana he kissed the back of her hand; once she had situated herself Soleil turned immediately to the shell-shocked doppelganger, laying one of her pale hands upon his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Escanor faced his fellow princes with disappointment in his copper eyes, even as Hadrhune all but collapsed into his chair across the table from the mountebank. "Enough, all of you. You _will_ save your concerns until we are all present, and you _will_ wait for the Most High to address the issues that mean the most to you, or I will dismiss you from this meeting! Enough individual nations are even now rebelling against us; it simply will not do for us to practice such division among our own ranks. Now sit, and be silent."

Though Lamorak, Melegaunt, Mattick, Vattick, and Brennus all still looked positively murderous, they all heeded the words of Telamont's eldest son and slowly dispersed to their seats; Brennus gracefully sat down on Soleil's right, and his expression softened a bit when the mountebank patted his forearm and offered him a bracing smile.

Phendrana did his best to stare down at the polished jet surface in front of him and allow no trace of the tumultuous emotions he now felt to show through on his face, but inside he was reeling from all he had heard. While the council members around him broke out into a spattering of forced amicable conversation he retreated into his mind, where his six departed companions were ready to help him sort through his own thoughts. He did not become aware of his physical surroundings again until he felt Soleil squeeze his hand with enough force to jar him from his reverie, and snapping his head up he saw High Prince Telamont materialize behind his seat at the head of the table and fix them all with a grave expression. By that time, all of the others were present.

"Let us commence," said Telamont, "with this highly-anticipated, undeniably unpleasant twilight gathering of the Shadow Council. Many of you have sought my audience throughout the afternoon, making cases in your favor for your words to be heard first; it has come to my attention that several of you have been bickering amongst yourselves also, which deeply grieves me. Therefore I have sought to begin this meeting with the most neutral voice I have heard amongst you all this day – Fourth Prince Aglarel, on the topic of his business dealings with Shaepulanderex of the Dragon Coast."

Lamorak came forward in his chair, prepared to protest, but Melegaunt was the first to oppose this choice out loud. "Most High One, if you please – "

"Aglarel," Telamont said again, his platinum eyes chilling in their quiet anger, "at your leisure."

The prince across the table from Lamorak rose from his seat, his silvery eyes barely visible beneath the cowl he wore. "Thank you, High Prince. As we suspected from our initial assessment of the situation, the dragon Shaepulanderex had little interest in forming an alliance between his famed dragon army and the City of Shade. The dragon was effectively put down and our presence in the region is quite obvious, but what remains is to decide how to govern the area. Dragons are fickle creatures, and most of them believe that their race is superior to all others – doubtless they will have little real interest in our efforts to rule the Dragon Coast democratically, and when they learn that we intend to utilize their ranks as our own personal attack force it is highly likely that many of them will rise up and rebel against us. I relinquish the floor for discussion."

High Prince Telamont nodded at the volatile-faced prince seated on Brennus's right – Tenth Prince Rapha – who had been the first to display interest in the topic at hand; he leaned around Brennus and fixed his eyes upon Soleil, who immediately stiffened where she sat. "Is it true that you put the dragon to death simply by shouting at it?"

Several among them laughed as though the mere suggestion was ridiculous; Soleil's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, and Aglarel narrowed his eyes. "That is not the issue at this point in time, Rapha."

"No," Rapha agreed with a sneer, "but I wish to make it the issue. Is it true?"

Soleil raised her head defiantly and turned her shocking yellow eyes upon the Tenth Prince. "There is quite a bit more to be said regarding the dragon's death, but yes, I suppose you could say that statement is accurate enough."

"Then why don't you fill us in on the details," Rapha pressed, sounding standoffish now, "since it has now become clear that you have been hiding these abilities from us all for Shar knows how long."

"Rapha," hissed High Prince Telamont from the head of the table, and the Tenth Prince flung himself back in his chair and crossed his arms as though the rest of the meeting hardly mattered.

Soleil scooted to the edge of her seat, and amid the skepticism of all of her peers she attempted to recount the tale of the dragon's fall. "There is no way to rationalize just what I did, for as I said in my testimony to the High Prince, the decision to attack Shaepulanderex in the manner that I did was in no way a conscious one. I was falling through the air, having been dislodged from the dragon's back, and several of you were in danger when I spoke some words that I did not recognize. Somehow the words transformed themselves into what seemed to be arcane power, and that power destroyed the dragon. There is little more I can say on the matter, for I am just as perplexed as those of you who witnessed it firsthand."

"If I may," Seventh Prince Dethud spoke up quietly, and Soleil nodded in his direction to offer him the floor. "If memory serves, Soleil did use a voice quite unlike her own; it was deep, and the words seemed very… ancient. I am versed in many languages, but these words were unrecognizable to me."

"The words transformed into a spell-like effect almost instantly," Clariburnus added thoughtfully. "It was an arcane blast of sheer cold the strength of which I have never seen – its force was enough to freeze the molten lava the dragon breathed."

"I have never heard of such a thing happening," interjected Melegaunt, one of the most well-versed in the arcane arts among them. "It defies all that we know of magic. I am at a loss."

"You have no need to fear sharing your opinion," Telamont broke in suddenly. "It is as valued as all of ours here, and I would very much like to hear it." They followed his gaze down to the end of the table, where Aveil Arthien was staring nervously at the table and studiously avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. When she did not immediately speak, Telamont went on. "It is entirely possible that you are more knowledgeable in the ways of the arcane than any of us here, and so you may well have the answer to this mystery. Have you some insight for us, Archmistress?"

Aveil lifted her head a fraction, careful to lock eyes with Soleil and no one else. When she spoke, she made it clear that her words were meant for the mountebank's consideration only. "Arcane magic is as old as time, yet undergoes constant changes every day – just as the individual wizard or sorcerer may awaken one day and possess a host of abilities previously unknown to them. Such a thing happened to me once; while I was still serving as senior battlemage to my predecessor Knellict, I one day attacked a dracolich with powers I hadn't known were available to me until that precise instant. The magic I used was a raw and underdeveloped branch of psionics – mind magic – that I have been honing ever since. Often these abilities have been inside us all along, but only make themselves known through the invoking of any outside stimulus – in your case, it seems that stimulus was need, or perhaps desperation. As for why those of you who heard these words with your own ears cannot name the language to which they belong, the answer is perhaps simpler than you realize – the language is older even than you."

More than one voice chuckled at this suggestion, but Brennus did not seem to think it was altogether ludicrous; glancing at Soleil he asked, "Do you remember what you said? Can you speak the words again?"

"I fear to do so," Soleil answered quietly, twisting her hands in her lap, "for I fear that if I do, I may inadvertently harm someone."

"Do not be afraid," Telamont bade her, in a tone that was almost soothing.

It was perfectly silent in the council chamber for many long moments as Soleil stumbled through several broken syllables of a language that sounded like utter nonsense; after a couple of minutes of this she snapped her mouth shut, her blush intensifying, and the snickers of her peers struck up all around.

Aveil was the first to respond, leaning toward Soleil and cocking one perfectly-shaped black eyebrow in open curiosity. "I can only speculate, but some of these syllables are vaguely familiar to me. _Zith_ may be the outdated term for _xarzith,_ which means 'ice', while the more modern term _trekis_ may be derived from the much older word _tre-kel_, which translates to 'tongue', or perhaps more accurately 'breath'."

"By the Moon," Brennus breathed, eyes widening, "I believe you are correct. _Xarzith trekis_ is of the Draconic language, so the variant phrase _Zith tre-kel_ can only be – "

"The language of the Dracon," Aveil finished with an air of complete certainty. "The first verbal language of the dragons and their direct descendants – a language that is largely considered completely extinct."

"But how does one come upon this language?" asked Soleil nervously. "The fact remains that I have never heard these words before, or know anyone that is even remotely familiar with the language!"

Aveil was shaking her head even before the mountebank had finished. "This is not a language you can learn through any conventional means; it is a language that is inherently known to those who are descended from the Dracon. Those words contain an ancient power far older than perhaps any other language known to this realm, and cannot be forgotten over any period of time. If you did indeed speak such words instinctively, it can only mean that you possess the blood of the Dracon, however distant."

"Then she is… descended from… dragons?" Escanor summarized uncertainly, his tone one of utter disbelief.

"Not just any dragons," Aveil corrected. "The oldest and strongest of the dragons – the first dragons ever to fly the skies of Faerun."

Soleil leapt to her feet then, her eyes far brighter than they had been, and it seemed that she would cry at any moment; she stared around at all of their blank faces, searching their expressions for some sort of answer or explanation, but there was none. "How can this be?!" she cried, and as she shook her head in denial the first of the tears seeped out the corners of her eyes. "How can I be something for all these years and never know it?! How – "

"Dear one," Telamont broke in gently, a father speaking to a child, "you are dismissed. You may return to Villa Cloveri without delay, and when you are willing to accept company I will send to you anyone you choose to discuss the issues you have missed."

It was clear by Soleil's expression that she was grateful for the dismissal, but so overwhelmed was she by the information presented to her that she could not form her thanks into words; instead she bowed low to the room at large and all but fled the council chamber without a single word.

"We must handle this situation with greater care in the future," the High Prince told them, a touch of sympathy about his features. "While I appreciate your insight on the subject, Lady Arthien, I think perhaps we have given Soleil far too much to consider this day. Brennus, you are well-versed in the Draconic language?"

Brennus looked puzzled. "I am fluent in it, Most High One, but why – ?"

"In the days to come I would like very much for you to gather as much information as you are able regarding the Dracon. You have my permission to borrow whatever books you may find regarding the subject from the grand library, so long as you agree to return them to where they belong when you have concluded your studies." Telamont turned toward Third Prince Lamorak then, tapping the tip of one index finger against his chin as he considered his next words. "Also, Lamorak… I wonder if you might invite Soleil to the Determinist's Guild sometime in the near future. I understand that the next Determining does not take place for another fortnight?"

"That is correct, High Prince," confirmed Lamorak. "What shall I do with Soleil?"

"Use any means at your disposal to determine just how much truth there is to these claims that she is of the Dracon. Of course, your work must be completed before the next Determining – you will need to be efficient in your research."

_How fascinating! _Phendrana drifted into the subconscious recesses of his mind, where Xanther had made his presence most prominent. _In all my years I never had the privilege of making the acquaintance of one of the Dracon – what a rare honor! It is a shame that we will not have the opportunity to assist with the trials that lay ahead for her._

Telamont swiveled his head in Phendrana's direction then, and the doppelganger remembered a few seconds too late that within the walls of Thultanthar there was nothing that escaped the High Prince's notice. Just as the mindmaster was bracing himself for a stern reminder that he was a guest and little else the High Prince offered him a tiny smile and faced the room at large, saying, "I confess – I have been quite rude. For those of you who have not yet had the privilege of meeting him, may I at last introduce Phendrana." To Phendrana's complete embarrassment Telamont gestured to the end of the table to indicate him, and all eyes turned his way as the High Prince went on, "Phendrana has chosen to reside among us, and as a resident of Cormyr and a friend to Thultanthar we welcome him wholeheartedly. If you are unfamiliar with Phendrana and his methods, allow me to say that Phendrana is quite a unique individual – he often has private conversations with outside personalities that he has assimilated into his own psyche, for example. Just now one of those other individuals alluded to having some knowledge in this arena and expressed a desire to participate in Soleil's trials." While Phendrana's face veritably burned crimson and he willed himself to disappear the High Prince glanced Brennus's way, adding, "Brennus, I wonder if you might allow Phendrana to inhabit Villa Tareia with you until we have provided adequate accommodations for him? This personality of his, Xanther, will undoubtedly be of use to you as you study the Dracon."

Brennus dipped his head, seeming pleased. "It would be an honor, Most High One. We will get to work following this meeting."

"Excellent." The High Prince abandoned his chair then, commanding their utmost attentions with his presence, and began another tale. "Earlier today Phendrana aided in saving the life of one of our own; he was approached without warning and spirited back to Thultanthar with little explanation and selflessly offered his services to tend to the well being of a man with whom he was barely acquainted. For that he has my utmost gratitude, and I ask that from this day forward you treat him with the utmost respect; there are few in this world who would extend a hand to anyone affiliated with the City of Shade, and for him to aid us as he did… I am speechless. My heart overflows with gratitude – Phendrana, I am in your debt.

"There is one other who aided in saving Hadrhune's life, of course – Archmistress Aveil Arthien, who comes to us now from the Citadel of Assassins." Phendrana was grateful when everyone's attention shifted to the comely, diminutive female spellcaster seated directly across from him. It was clear at first glance that she did not mind their inquisitive glances in the slightest – quite the contrary, Aveil seemed to thrive on the attention, and Phendrana found himself in awe of her self-confidence. "As you are all aware, Shar charged us with thwarting the return of Lim Tal'eyve, whom we have reason to believe is the chosen emissary of the Spider Queen Lolth and therefore poses something of a threat to us. Lady Arthien was the lichdrow's target earlier today, but Hadrhune was able to intervene – though his actions nearly cost him his life." Melegaunt slapped Hadrhune's back heartily, smiling impressively, and the seneschal smiled back at them tiredly. "Lady Arthien delivered Hadrhune to us earlier today at great personal risk, and despite several minor transgressions I have agreed to grant her my protection for the time being – in exchange for the information she has regarding Lim Tal'eyve, as well as her vow that she will aid Thultanthar from this point forward in any endeavors required of her. Naturally, she has already agreed to these terms. I would like to offer the floor now to Hadrhune and Aveil, who remain the only ones among us to have witnessed the lichdrow's power firsthand."

The seneschal and the snow elf glanced at one another, and for perhaps the first time since the encounter with Lim Tal'eyve their eyes met; they stared at one another for the briefest of moments, a moment of such an insignificant period of time that no one really noticed their unwillingness to look away – no one except Phendrana, whose mind was so sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of others that he found himself intruding upon their thoughts without even trying.

_By the grace of Shar,_ Hadrhune thought, _I cannot believe we have both survived this day. Thank the Gods that you are safe. Where could you have found the courage to bring me back here, knowing all the things you may have been subject to upon your arrival? I could never find the words to thank you. I am forever in your debt._

_I thought I would never set eyes upon you again, _Aveil's relieved voice flooded Phendrana's mind. _You wouldn't speak, you weren't breathing… I have never been so terrified. No! This cannot be happening. We cannot surrender ourselves to these emotions, whatever they may be. It is too dangerous! We will never be safe._

"It is important to note that the lichdrow has access to a wide range of abilities I have never faced," Hadrhune began smoothly, tearing his gaze from Aveil's and allowing his eyes to take in the faces of his fellow council members; Phendrana gave his head a little shake, trying to force their private words from his mind before the Most High plucked them from his memory. "In his essence he is surprisingly resistant to magic of the Shadow Weave, and he has the ability to dematerialize and rematerialize anywhere at will. The spell that nearly felled me was a daylight spell, as you are all now aware, but somehow he made it a concentrated blast that radiated from his hand; before setting off the effect he was able to transmute his hand into vapor, and release the spell inside of my body."

"I did notice," Aveil cut in, careful not to look Hadrhune in the eye now, "that Lim has retained many of the powers he gained when he was made a lich – namely the ability to steal the life from anyone he chooses simply by initiating physical contact with that person. In my weakened state I was nearly powerless to fend him off – had he taken all of my life energy, he would be walking among the World of the Living by now… and I would be making my final journey beyond the Veil."

"That was his ultimate goal today, was it not?" clarified Ninth Prince Vattick, and it was Rivalen who answered.

"When I communed with Shar this morning I was told that if the lichdrow was able to steal the life from a creature that the Spider Queen considered worthy, that Lolth would keep the soul for her own and, in exchange, restore Lim Tal'eyve to life." Rivalen's eyes rested upon Aveil, and he looked skeptical. "It seems that Hadrhune's guess was correct, and that you were indeed the lichdrow's intended target – it is not clear why. For what reason would you be the target of both the usurper of the Bloodstone Lands and the Queen of the Abyss?"

"Lim Tal'eyve and I are old, bitter enemies," Aveil explained, and even the mention of the drow's name was enough to twist her face into an expression of loathing. "It is true that once we worked together, and it is also true that we once aided the other in obtaining higher ranks of station, but there is far more to the tale than that. Lim is a manipulator, a deceiver, a liar, and a heartless killer; in my lifetime he has tricked me into aiding him in ways I despite myself for, imprisoned me, tortured me to within an inch of my life, subjected my former friends and my ex-husband to unspeakable horrors, and stole my unborn child from my belly." A stunned silence followed these words, during which all of those present could only regard Aveil with the utmost pity, and then she finished, "As for why I am of any consequence to Lolth… I suppose it is because of Lim. Despite many setbacks he still retains her favor, and enjoys his position as her chosen emissary; he induces chaos in her name at every possible opportunity, and though he is not always successful in the end he has always managed to accomplish the twisted and perverse along the way. Returning Lim to life would undoubtedly prove lucrative to the Spider Queen; allowing him to put an end to me and those closest to me would be beneficial to them both."

"I see." High Prince Telamont was considering Aveil's testimony carefully, his expression slightly grim. "You have my word, Archmistress, that these affairs will never be far from my mind – however, for the moment, I must say that I am at a loss for what to do next. It is highly unlikely that Lim Tal'eyve could infiltrate Thultanthar without my knowing of it, so I daresay that you will be safe enough as long as you remain here." Telamont paused for a moment, thinking hard, it seemed, until against his better judgment he added, "Since you and Hadrhune seem so well acquainted, perhaps it would be best if you relocated yourself to Villa Cambria with him. I will leave it up to the two of you to remain current on these matters, and to deliver any pertinent information concerning Lim Tal'eyve to me at once. It is in your best interests to focus on the task at hand, and nothing else. Is this in any way unclear?"

"No, Most High One," Hadrhune agreed at once. "I will adhere to your commands, as always."

"I understand completely," Aveil added, "and I thank you for your generosity. I will aid you as best I may."

Telamont's eyes swept the council chamber, alighting upon each and every one of them in turn; it struck Phendrana how regal the High Prince really was, from the strong set of his jaw to the keen light burning behind his eyes and the way that he held himself when he addressed them. He spread his arms almost beseechingly, drawing them in with his grace and benevolence, until in a somewhat melancholy tone he struck up his next topic of discussion. "It is no secret to any of you that our plans to finalize a peaceable negotiation with the Lords of Waterdeep has come to a most unfortunate end; earlier this day many of the Lords suffered their deaths at the hands of some of our own, and only one of Waterdeep's monarchs now remains within the city with his life. Know that those who have participated in this heinous act have already received their just rewards, and that to further punish them by word or by sword will be considered an open act of defiance against me – and that I will not tolerate by any means. I forbid any of you to speak words of accusation as I open the floor for discussion, and I must stress quite strongly that it is my goal tonight for us to arrive at a course of action that best suits all of us, as well as Waterdeep. The bottom line is that we are now in possession of a city that is largely without leadership, and I intend to rectify that before we adjourn. So I turn the discussion now to all of you, and trust that you will honor my wishes."

The High Prince took his seat without awaiting their replies, and though more than one face in the council room displayed an expression of open hostility they all managed to stay their words with respect for Telamont. Phendrana was quite taken aback by their collected show of obedience, and could not remember a time when he had ever before witnessed such seamless cooperation.

Predictably, First Prince Escanor was the first to offer his opinion. "High Prince, may I suggest that we also add the alliance with Silverymoon into this discussion, for whatever decisions we make regarding Waterdeep will surely effect Lady Alustriel's kingdom as well, however indirectly that may be."

"Motion approved. Let us commence."

Third Prince Lamorak cleared his throat; Brennus, Vattick, and Mattick all regarded him with varied levels of anxiety. "I must say, no matter how we choose to progress from this point forward it is likely that our presence in Waterdeep will never be accepted, much less welcomed, by the civilian population. We could exert as much pressure as we please upon Open Lord Paladinson, and that pressure may or may not yield results favorable to our efforts, but what will we really gain in the end? Will we not still be dictators? The invading country that slaughtered the benevolent democracy of the Shining City and claimed lordship over those lands? Are our hopes for peaceful relations with Waterdeep not ruined at this point?"

"Not necessarily," said Sixth Prince Yder broodingly. "Perhaps if we encouraged Paladinson that now is the time to usher in an age of new leadership?"

"There is an idea." Mattick was nodding along encouragingly. "If we were to work with Paladinson, and the common folk saw our efforts to unite Thultanthar and Waterdeep, there is a chance that they would be more willing to embrace our presence in the city. We could send a representative to work directly with Paladinson in selecting a new governing body."

"A good plan, in theory," Aglarel observed quietly, "but you are forgetting one crucial detail – Paladinson witnessed firsthand the murder of his fellow Lords at our hands. Do you really believe he will choose to work with us on any matter hereafter?"

"Out of a desire to keep his own life, perhaps," Melegaunt pointed out. "But not wholeheartedly."

"It is likely that he will avoid all contact with the enclave if he can," finished Hadrhune darkly.

Escanor had his chin propped up in one hand, thinking silently to himself, when he glanced up and said, "Perhaps he would be more willing to reach some sort of agreement if the representative from Shade was of non-shade origin? Sending either Soleil, Phendrana, or Aveil would then be a possibility, and Paladinson might receive any of them better than one of us."

Rivalen surprised them all by speaking then, for he had been somber since the topic of Waterdeep had arisen and had scarcely made eye contact while the High Prince addressed them. "No – we will not delegate someone to see to this task that is not of the Tanthul family. We are the ones who have caused this debacle, and we are the ones who will deal with the resulting aftermath. Allow me to represent you in this matter, Most High One, since the fault here is mine. I will not rest until relations between Thultanthar and Waterdeep have improved… If that means that I must subject myself to the judgment of the Waterdhavians, then I am willing. I will atone."

"Well said, brother," congratulated Vattick, "but you are not the only one in the wrong. I also participated, and my twin. It is wrong for you to shoulder the blame."

"I too should be held responsible," admitted Brennus sadly, and Telamont rose from his seat then, effectively hushing them.

"This is why the world needs the guiding hand of the Netherese," said the High Prince, beaming around at them all with a father's glowing pride. "If all cultures were as willing to seek the forgiveness of those they had wronged, the world would be a better place indeed. Perhaps through your noble actions and your selfless sacrifices there will be no need for war and bloodshed one day… Until that day comes, however, I am glad to see your efforts – know that they give me heart. Rivalen, I will entrust you with the task of making contact with Paladinson – consider it the last part of your sentence, after which you will receive a full pardon from me. Vattick, Mattick, Brennus… you may absolve yourselves by making yourselves available to Rivalen in anything that he requires of you as far as Waterdeep is concerned. I will observe your efforts, and give advice where applicable. Are we agreed that the first logical step forward is to offer our aid to Paladinson in choosing Waterdeep's new governing body?"

The princes nodded earnestly in unanimous agreement, and Telamont reclaimed his seat looking pleased.

"Very well, then it is decided. Let us give the poor man a few days to recover from his recent tragedy, though, before we bombard him with questions regarding his city's leadership… Let us move on to Silverymoon, where the fallout will undoubtedly be most devastating. Escanor, proceed."

First Prince Escanor vacated his seat, clutching the high back with his hands and leaning his weight against it as he faced them. "We would be foolish to think that Lady Alustriel's peace accord with the City of Shade is a good thing, for she stressed that she would only accept our proposal if we guaranteed the safety of her people. This in itself is not a difficult thing to ensure – Silverymoon has a superb army and strong walls, and has stood the test of time and withstood both war and famine for decades. Alustriel has no real love for the Lords of Waterdeep, but neither is she oblivious to their existence; it will be productive for us to aid Paladinson in the days to come, for any acts of kindness we perform for the Waterdhavians will reach the Lady's ears eventually. In the short term, perhaps it would be prudent of us to make a few public appearances in Silverymoon of an amicable nature – mingle with the people, offer our services here and there."

"The Princes of Shade, aiding the common folk amidst their squalor?" scoffed Tenth Prince Rapha, and crossing his arms he flung himself back in his chair mutinously. "Preposterous. Let us not pretend that Thultanthar is a charity service, for it is not. Let us not persuade the people of these nations that we are their friends, for that has never been our goal. Let us not lose sight of our dream to become the most powerful force in all of Faerun – is that not what we are working for?"

"I agree," Yder said. "Why are we not expanding our kingdom, as we were before? What happened to our takeover of the Heartlands? They are ours by our birthright."

"And rest assured," Telamont interjected, "that when the phaerimm show their faces again that eradicating every last one of them will become my first priority – until then, perhaps we would do well to offer our services to the people of Silverymoon where they are needed. While I appreciate the sentiment behind your suggestion, Escanor, I do think that perhaps acts of this nature are, shall we say, beneath someone of your station… Perhaps a small group from the Lower Court would be willing to journey to Lady Alustriel's kingdom."

The Lower Court was a collection of some one hundred nobles dwelling within the Palace Most High who were distant relations of the High Prince – cousins to the Princes of Shade, illegitimate sons and daughters that were the result of trysts between the Most High's sons and those not of pure Netherese descent, and the like – to whom Telamont occasionally passed off certain tasks. The Princes of Shade nodded along their agreement with this assessment, and Telamont clapped his hands once in finality.

"Very well, it is settled then – we will leave the affairs of Silverymoon to the Lower Court, and those of you who have not offered yourselves up to the completion of another task will be the first to honor my summons in the event that the phaerimm show themselves in the Heartlands. Until then, you all have your duties… Let us say that this meeting is adjourned. You are free to go unless you would like to request a private audience with me, in which case I will accept you in the audience hall. Let us disperse."


	5. Chapter Four

The hour was very late when Escanor decided to intrude upon Soleil; he found her asleep and curled up in a ball with her arms wrapped around herself, and when he laid down beside her she stirred fitfully as though having unpleasant dreams but did not awaken. Gathering her into his arms he kissed her cheeks gently, tasting the salty tracks of mostly-dried tears upon his lips when he pulled away. Gradually she roused and drifted closer to him, and rather than engage her in conversation Escanor soothed her back to sleep and rested with her in his arms for a time. It was an hour or two before dawn when they both awoke long enough to discuss what had happened during the twilight gathering; he filled her in on all the topics she had missed after her dismissal, content to be near her and to hear her voice, and when he had no information to offer Soleil at last felt compelled to address what had transpired.

"Is it possible? That I'm…" She swallowed hard and tried to continue, but through a combination of uncertainty and her fear of the unknown she was rendered speechless; Escanor watched her with eyes full of concern and remained quiet for a little while, mulling over all that had been said before he bothered to offer his opinions.

"Does it really matter?" When she glanced up at him with undiluted skepticism he placed a kiss to her forehead as if to assuage her before continuing. "You have been among us for nearly a decade – the only non-shade serving upon the council, the only female to claim a place within the Most High's inner circle, the only mountebank whose soul the High Prince claims to have in his own personal keeping. You are an anomaly; you have been since the moment you decided to make the City of Shade your home. Do not trouble yourself with where you come from, or the origins of your genetic makeup. The most important thing for you to remember is that it is the choices we make that define us – perhaps you truly are of the Dracon, and you will learn that in time, but will it really change anything about you?"

Soleil mulled over the First Prince's words, gnawing the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth until Escanor chuckled to himself and tapped a finger against her chin, prompting her to stop. "Perhaps it will! What if the High Prince deems me unfit to serve him? Suppose he begins to feel that I have known this about myself all this time, and that I have been withholding this information from him for years? I could be cast out of the enclave. I would have nowhere to go…"

"Soleil, stop this," Escanor bade her sternly, and he even frowned, something he rarely did in her presence. "It goes without saying that the High Prince adores you – he could not love you more if you were of his own blood. He knows that your words are true… Have you forgotten that he owns your soul? He knows the true nature of everything about you, and has always been proud of what he sees. It is a complete impossibility that he would deem you unfit to serve him. Do not even think such things."

That was when Soleil looked up at him with an expression of sadness that was far more ancient than her years and voiced a concern that she had been keeping silent for many years. "I am not of Netheril, Prince Escanor. I can never become a shade. My usefulness to the High Prince begins and ends with surrendering my soul to him and agreeing to serve as his mountebank for all time. I can never advance, and I can never be more valuable to him than I am right now."

Escanor sat up so suddenly that Soleil nearly tumbled out of bed, and when she glanced up quizzically to regard him it was to find that he wore an expression of unease and nervousness; he gazed down at her for an immeasurable period of time until gradually his eyes softened and he lifted one hand to stroke her face with exaggerated care, and when he did so it was apparent that his fingertips were trembling. Soleil opened her mouth to address this, but Escanor overrode her, saying, "Perhaps it is true that you can never become a shade, but that is not the only way for you to advance in Thultanthar… surely you know that? Those who hold the favor of the High Prince hold limitless possibilities themselves in their hands… the ability to sell one's soul for incredible strength, the choice to embrace the blood that courses through one's veins and unlock its secrets… the idea that one can become a member of the Tanthul family, through marriage." And from his pocket the First Prince of the City of Shade extracted a diamond-encrusted band set with a brilliant dark blue sapphire.

Soleil felt the air catch in her lungs as she stared down at the priceless artifact breathlessly; somehow she managed to gasp out, "Can something so remarkable, so obviously priceless, truly be meant for someone like me?!"

"You were born to wear this, my love," murmured Escanor with a smile that was more blissful than any Soleil had ever seen him wear. "Marry me."

Their lips met in a kind of desperate rush as he slipped the ring onto her finger, and as she was becoming overcome by her need for him Soleil managed to draw away just enough to murmur, "What about the Most High?"

"He has already given us his blessing," Escanor breathed, his lips brushing against hers, and he chuckled as he asked, "Will you accept?"

Soleil wound her arms around him and pulled him closer, letting her lips give him all the answer he required, and no more words were spoken between them until well past dawn.

Hadrhune busied himself with all manner of menial tasks that he could imagine until at last he had exhausted himself, and though it was nowhere near daylight hours he knew that he had to return to Villa Cambria or risk severe fatigue; his condition had improved, certainly, but Seventh Prince Dethud had warned him against engaging in anything too strenuous for a day or two and he supposed he should heed the suggestion. In this case, the strenuous thing he most wanted to avoid was running astray of his new houseguest in any way, be it violent or intimate in nature, though he was certain beyond any doubt that Aveil was awake and awaiting his return despite the lateness of the hour. Rather than continue to avoid the situation he chose to confront her, in the hopes that afterward he would be able to sleep for an uninterrupted period of time.

It was blissfully dark when he shadow-walked onto his balcony overlooking the Circle, and shrugging out of his shroud he made to drape the garment over the back of the armchair he normally used for precisely that purpose to find Aveil's spellcaster's robes were taking up residence there already. Rather than move them he simply laid his shroud on top of it, for he was now so tired that he could scarcely make sense of his own thoughts.

It wasn't until he collapsed into bed that he realized Aveil was already there, too.

She was curled up on her side facing him, and it was obvious that she had been sleeping; she yawned tiredly when Hadrhune scooted away from her, and her voice was groggy when she addressed him. "Where have you been?"

_Avoiding you_, he wanted to say, but he supposed that would invite far too many unwanted questions. "Where I have been is no concern of yours. I have much to attend to. And why in the name of Shar are you here?"

"Because your sovereign ordered me to stay in your villa," Aveil snapped, in a tone that was a little more alert now. "Have you already forgotten?"

"I was not questioning your presence in my home, temptress, but in my bed. Is there nowhere else for you to sleep?"

Aveil lifted herself up onto her elbow, her violet eyes glaring at him through the gloom. "And where do you propose I go? Have you some vacant private quarters that you forgot to offer me before you vanished from the council chamber and left me to my own devices? Did it never cross your mind that perhaps if you are going to be responsible for the needs of a long-term guest you should be more attentive?"

She had a point there, of course, but Hadrhune wasn't about to admit that; he was far too busy avoiding her gaze and suppressing the urge to take her in his arms to consider the awkward nature of their living situation. In an attempt to keep things somewhat innocent between them he turned onto his side, leaving her with nothing but a view of his back when he grumbled, "In the morning I will leave orders for my housekeeping staff to arrange for private quarters of your own. For tonight, this will have to suit you. Perhaps you have forgotten that I nearly lost my life this day?"

"Do not accuse me of a lapse in memory," the snow elf hissed at his back, and Hadrhune could veritably feel the rage emanating from her now. "It was I who bore you back here to be cared for. It was I who risked all to see to your safety. And all under the assumption that there was some part of you that cared for me! What have you been doing these last several hours that has convinced you of some wrongdoing on my part? Why are you suddenly so against me?"

"The Most High warned us to keep our thoughts and actions always centered on thwarting Lim Tal'eyve's efforts to return to the World of the Living," Hadrhune reminded, the faintest trace of sadness in his tone. "And so that is clearly what we should do."

"So you intend to forget how you feel?! You – "

"I know what you want of me," Hadrhune interrupted, "and I confess, I cannot give you what you desire. Regardless of how I may feel for you, I have a duty – the Most High's will is the governing force of my life. If I cease to adhere to his wishes, I cease to be. There is little else I could ever say to make you understand… I will provide for your comfort, as I have been charged with and as I have promised you, and I will aid you against Lim Tal'eyve in whatever manner such a task may require, but that is the extent of it. Do not ask me for something that I do not have the capacity to provide."

Sleep claimed Hadrhune then, for he was so desperately tired that he couldn't keep his eyes open for another second; Aveil gazed at his back for a long time, a kind of quiet sadness rimming her eyes, before she at last put as much space between them as she could manage and drifted off as well.

Brennus, it seemed, had been awake for quite some time when Phendrana timidly knocked on the door to the loremaster's private quarters before admitting himself; when he cracked the door open the Twelfth Prince was already out of his study chair and striding toward him, tugging the doppelganger insistently toward the dining table that was already laden with their breakfast.

"Do you often dine with common folk?" Phendrana laughed as Brennus all but shoved him into his chair.

"No," Brennus shot back, and he tossed a half-loaf of bread across the table and onto Phendrana's plate. "But then, you are no commoner. Eat! You will need your strength today, for we have much to do."

Briefly Phendrana entertained a vision of the pair of them intertwined in a compromising position, which was shocking enough to draw gasps of disbelief from more than one of the residents who shared his mind, and with widening eyes and darkening cheeks he busied himself about his loaf, mumbling, "If you keep forcing food down my throat, Prince, I fear I will be of little use to you."

Brennus lifted an eyebrow and observed Phendrana appraisingly, deftly peeling a nectarine as he did so. When Phendrana was certain he could abide the prince's scrutiny no longer Brennus said, "You are underweight for your height, by my estimate. You could use a square meal or two, and it has never been said that I am an inconsiderate host… so long as you remain here, Phendrana, you will have no choice but to eat as much as I choose to feed you!"

They laughed together at that, the prince's familiar bronze eyes soft and friendly, provoking perhaps the most inappropriate observation that Ristel could have thought to offer. _Perhaps your lewd daydreams are not as unfounded as I originally guessed._

Phendrana all but choked on a mouthful of warm bread smothered with honey, and in an attempt to hide his embarrassment he choked out, "What will we be busy doing today?"

_Why don't you tell him what you would like to busy yourself doing instead?_ Alax snickered, and his and Ristel's howls of laughter reverberated through the doppelganger's mind.

Fortunately, Brennus didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss. "I have already visited with Lamorak this morning… He and Soleil will be meeting at the Determinist's Guild within the hour, and he has invited us to attend. I thought it prudent that you come along, since you will be attending your own Determining when it is most convenient for both you and the High Prince. After that we will be visiting the Palace Most High so that we may utilize the Grand Library in our search for information regarding the Dracon, and if you are feeling up to it later I may involve you in my translation of the Nether Scroll – if that is something you would be interested in, that is?" Brennus broke off with an embarrassed little smile and chuckled genially, adding, "Forgive me, Phendrana, it seems I have planned your entire day for you! How rude of me. I am certain that you have been swallowing your own questions since your arrival yesterday, and I'm afraid I have been less than accommodating."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Phendrana, accepting half of the peeled nectarine and taking a modest bite. "Though I do have one question, now that you mention it… What is the Determining? I have now heard several mentions of it but I cannot say that I am at all familiar with the term."

"And you wouldn't be," Brennus observed idly. "The Determining is a sacred practice observed only in Thultanthar, a rite of passage that the Most High himself instated when it became clear that we would not be discovering a means to transport Shade Enclave back into the Material Plane for quite some time. As you have undoubtedly noticed, the ratio of Shadovar to actual shades in the city is quite staggering – in a city of approximately ten thousand Shadovar, only about one hundred of them are shades. There is a group of hand-selected Shadovar who serve beneath my brother Lamorak at the Determinist's Guild, and it is their job to decide whether a Shadovar is deserving of becoming a shade when they come of age."

"How do they determine who should become a shade?" Phendrana asked curiously.

"A series of aptitude tests is all," Brennus explained, waving one hand in dismissal. "The tests measure the individual's intellect, their overall demeanor, whether they would be better served wielding a sword or a staff in combat, and other such exams. There is also a DNA test to ensure that the individual up for consideration is indeed of pure-blooded Netherese descent, but little else."

Phendrana took a long drink of orange juice, considering. "And your brother will be testing Soleil's blood?"

Brennus nodded. "It is the quickest way to prove the Archmistress's claims that Soleil is indeed of the Dracon, archaic as it may be… Once we have an outright answer we will take our search for answers to the Grand Library, and leave Soleil to Lamorak. If she truly has ancient dragon blood running through her veins, my brother will undoubtedly wish to run several more tests on her."

The doppelganger read Brennus's face as he spoke, taking note of the mild concern that turned down the corners of the loremaster's mouth and marveling at how familiar Brennus's expressions had already become. "You believe what Aveil says, don't you? You think that Soleil really is of the Dracon."

Brennus replaced his fine china mug upon its matching saucer with a clatter that was undoubtedly a little louder than he had originally intended and gently dabbed at his mouth with a napkin; Phendrana wondered if he had overstepped his bounds when the prince didn't answer right away, and then Brennus said, "In my opinion, yes, I do believe that Lady Arthien's claims have a great deal of truth to them. As knowledgeable as she is concerning our kind she must know that she can gain nothing by bearing false witness in this place, and she seems far too cunning to attempt a lie to the Most High's face. Also, since the moment Soleil arrived here she has very obviously been more than she appeared… When Lamorak took her into the Determinist's Guild when she was only fourteen and made his initial assessment of her, we were convinced that aside from being possessed of a great deal of charisma and an almost staggering loyalty that there was nothing out of the ordinary about her." Brennus abandoned his chair then, taking his teacup with him as he claimed his loremaster's robes from the back of his study chair, and when he was fully dressed for the day ahead he finished, "However… the Most High has always been possessed of the uncanny talent for locating individuals of the most extraordinary talents wherever he goes. It could be that the High Prince foresaw this development many years ago – though whether he guessed it would develop as it has, I can only speculate. Now… shall we depart?"

Phendrana stumbled out of his chair and half-chased the Twelfth Prince out onto the balcony, and when Brennus offered his hand the mindmaster was only too eager to accept it. They melted into their own shadows and traversed a well-worn path through the heavy dark mists of the Shadow Realm, and only moments later they had materialized in a different place altogether.

Though he really knew little of Brennus, Phendrana admitted sullenly to himself, their new location seemed to be a place that the loremaster would enjoy visiting often. The room they stood in was all cobblestones and high ceilings, lit with candles that burned a soothing magenta flame; bookshelves almost as high as the ceilings lined the walls, and squat tables laden with various alchemical ingredients were interspersed in no particular order throughout the chamber. Overhead there hung a stylish gothic chandelier of black wrought iron that burned two dozen tapered candles, and in one corner a small group of Shadovar wearing deep gray robes emblazoned with strange pale silver symbols seemed to be discussing a spell component that one among their number had incorrectly used. They were immediately hailed by Third Prince Lamorak, who broke away from that group at once to join them.

"Well met," he greeted as he drew near, smiling companionably enough at Phendrana and clapping his youngest brother upon the shoulder. "Soleil is in there – " he nodded to a heavy-looking steel door over Phendrana's left shoulder, " – having her blood drawn so that I might begin analyzing it. I can hardly wait for you to have the chance to speak with her – she has phenomenal news."

Brennus cocked a curious eyebrow. "What is it?"

"She will want to tell you," insisted Lamorak, leading them toward the door he had indicated just moments before, "since she has always been quite fond of you, Brennus. This is indeed a joyous day for the City of Shade, regardless of how the blood analysis progresses."

Brennus's expression suggested that he might burst from the prospect of waiting when the door swung open just inches from them and Soleil veritably hurtled out, flinging herself into Brennus's arms; the loremaster embraced her, looking so comically perplexed that Phendrana couldn't help but burst into laughter. When the mountebank could at last stand to release Brennus she held up her left hand before him, and the Twelfth Prince's eyes nearly doubled in size – there upon her ring finger was perhaps the most exquisite piece of jewelry Phendrana had ever laid eyes on, a band made entirely of flawless diamonds and set with a square-shaped blue sapphire the size of a silver piece.

"By the divine grace of Shar!" Brennus howled, seizing her hand in both of his own and inspecting the intricately-arranged gems from every feasible angle. "Soleil Chemaut… I confess myself speechless! This ring is a Tanthul family heirloom… the High Prince's first bride once wore this ring upon her finger!"

"Prince Escanor mentioned as much," Soleil giggled, clutching her left hand to her chest and cradling the priceless treasure she wore as though it were nearer to her heart than anything else she had ever received. "I feel I must certainly be dreaming! To be married to Prince Escanor… this is an honor that I could never deserve. I am more grateful than I could ever profess."

Lamorak was rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Really, all this formality… Soleil, you are betrothed to the High Prince's eldest son, and one day soon we shall all proudly call you sister. Can you not call your fiancé by his first name? I do believe the time for including his title every time you address him has long passed."

They laughed together companionably, and once again Phendrana was warmed by their obvious camaraderie. The moment was a glad one until a lesser Determinist stepped out of the room Soleil had just exited and laid a slip of parchment and a vial of blood in Third Prince Lamorak's hand. A hush came down amongst them as Lamorak lifted the slip of parchment to read, and when his silver eyes flitted to alight upon Soleil she had to clutch Brennus's arm to keep from swooning.

"It is a positive match," Lamorak confessed, looking more than a little flabbergasted. "Not only does your blood sample prove your tie to the Dracon, it confirms that your relation to the species is in no way distant… you are, in fact, half-Dracon."

"_What_?!" shrieked Soleil, drawing glances from every Determinist in the hall. "_H-half_?!"

"But that would mean that either the woman who bore her or her patron is one of the Dracon!" Phendrana gasped. "Do you realize what that means?!"

"One of her parents happens to be one of the oldest and strongest dragons that has ever walked the face of Faerun," finished Brennus, and if it was possible for a shade to take on a pale quality the Twelfth Prince did indeed appear rather peaked; he managed to steer Soleil into the nearest chair before collapsing into the one directly to her right, and it was quiet for many long minutes as they all digested the information.

_Phendrana, if you would allow me…_ Xanther requested timidly, and the doppelganger willingly relinquished control of his body to the platinum knight. Only Lamorak started when another person altogether appeared where Phendrana had sat a moment before; Brennus and Soleil, interestingly enough, already seemed quite used to this type of behavior. Reserved Xanther put out one hand and patted the back of Soleil's reassuringly, and when he addressed her it was in a calm, soothing tone. "Soleil, what can you tell me about your parents?"

The mountebank looked undeniably shell-shocked, but she spoke clearly enough when she responded. "I remember little of them both, for they were only a part of my upbringing when I was a child… my father was of human birth and was a commoner for as long as I knew him, and in the streets of Waterdeep where I was raised he was something of a thief of legend. His skills of deceit and manipulation were his primary means of providing for me; though I learned little to be proud of, he always managed to put food on our table. My mother, on the other hand, was an elven warrior – I remember little of her, though my father used to tell me how beautiful she was and often said that we so resembled one another physically that I reminded him of her often. She left me in his care for reasons I do not recall… my father rarely spoke of her, except to tell me how much we looked alike."

Xanther needed little time to form his hypothesis, for the answer was clear in Soleil's assessment of her parents; he glanced to Brennus for confirmation first, though, to find that the Twelfth Prince was nodding encouragingly at him. "It is likely that your mother is one of the Dracon – based on your description of her, that is."

Soleil glanced up to regard him, her expression bleak. "What do you mean? How can you tell?"

"From what we know of all dragonkind, they are prone to one-time trysts with any species they deem entertaining, or amusing, or otherwise desirable in some way," Xanther explained. "It stands to reason that the Dracon would behave in a similar manner. Offspring of these trysts are not uncommon, though unfortunately in most cases the dragonkin chooses not to be active in the offspring's upbringing, and will leave the care of the child up to the other parent. Dragons seldom settle down and are not prone to drastic lifestyle changes; as most dragonkind wander the world in search of treasures and other pursuits that they enjoy, actually starting a family is very rarely a goal of theirs."

"So you think… my mother… was one of the Dracon?" Soleil reiterated uncertainly. "And that she was just pretending to be an elf all along?"

Xanther looked up to regard Lamorak, who had been listening intently all the while. "May I ask what the DNA sample designates the other half of her genetic makeup to be?"

"That she is half human," answered the Third Prince immediately, and he turned to Soleil. "All that this personality of Phendrana's has said is true as far as I am aware, Soleil. Doubtless your father never knew that he was romantically involved with one of the Dracon, and there is a good chance that he took you in without question when your mother delivered you to him when you were a child."

"Dragons have a way with words that most lesser races cannot comprehend," Brennus agreed, and Soleil stood up abruptly and set to pacing about the room.

"It is clear to me now that I have inherited this strange trait that utilizes the language of the Dracon as a weapon from my mother," she said aloud, though it was clear to all three of them that she was talking more to herself than anyone else. "But what am I meant to do with it? How can I mold it into a weapon that I can better control? Up until yesterday I wasn't even aware that these powers existed within me!"

Brennus had vacated his chair also and seemed ready to leave the Determinist's Guild; Xanther followed suit, assuming that he would be accompanying the loremaster about his duties. "Hopefully these are questions that I will find answers to in my studies – Xanther, if it suits you, we will make our way to the Palace Most High now and begin our search for books that explain the Dracon in greater detail. It is the next logical step in solving this mystery."

"I will accompany you to the palace," Lamorak put in, handing the vial off to one of the guild attendants and slipping the parchment into an inside pocket of his Determinist's robes. "I should report these findings to the Most High… he will be most interested in these results. Soleil? What will you do now?"

"Back to Villa Dusari, I think," she sighed, referring to First Prince Escanor's private residence in the Circle. "Prince Escanor will be waiting to hear all that has transpired… that is where I will be if you discover anything new, or if you would like me to participate in any more tests."

"I will more than likely come to collect you in a few hours," Lamorak told her. "Until then, relax. I know that these events are taxing for you, but remember that you have much to be happy for! Keep your thoughts on your betrothal and do not worry until there is something that calls for your concern."

Soleil looked grateful for his words. "Thank you. I will do my best to heed your advice."

Aveil was already in the spacious dining hall on the ground floor of Villa Hara, picking mutinously at a fresh peach with a teacup full of cooling tea near her right hand when Fourth Prince Aglarel walked in; he paused in the doorway, took one look at the dark expression she wore, and couldn't help laughing out loud.

"You mock me?" Aveil snapped venomously, and still chuckling Aglarel took a seat beside her and reached for various fruits and breads to start his meal.

"Mock you? Archmistress, I would not presume to mock you – my amusement with your predicament is directed solely at Hadrhune, of whom I have never been particularly fond. To obey the Most High's orders is one thing, but to allow an exquisite specimen such as yourself to slip through his grasp simply to retain the High Prince's favor?" Aglarel retrieved the water pitcher and poured himself a glass, his eyes glinting bemusedly from beneath his cowl as he shook his head ever so slightly as though in disbelief. "Now _that_ is dedication. I am not saying that disobeying the Most High is a just course of action, for more often than not it leads directly to ruin, but… I may have bent the rules in this case."

Aveil fixed her eyes upon her peach and at last took a bite, and it seemed to Aglarel that a little color had risen in her cheeks. "I apologize again for admitting myself at such an absurd hour. Surely I woke you when I arrived."

"I seldom sleep," was Aglarel's cryptic answer, and turning in his chair he faced her when he asked, "You left while he slept?"

She nodded, a crease forming between her perfectly-sculpted eyebrows. "I suspect he will be most angry when he awakens and discovers I have gone… Then again, perhaps he will overjoyed. Perhaps he will not even notice. I do not care."

The mirth was apparent in Aglarel's face, so much so that Aveil found herself becoming increasingly irritated by it. "Ah, the affairs of the non-Netherese truly are entertaining! You are fooling no one, Archmistress – if you truly felt unaffected by Hadrhune's rebuff, you would have continued to dwell in Villa Cambria with him as though nothing were amiss. And if he felt nothing for you, he would not have gone through such trouble to keep you at bay – at least, those are my humble observations. You may take them or leave them at your leisure."

"I suppose it doesn't matter," sighed Aveil darkly, and straightening in her chair she seemed to change demeanor as she took a sip of her tea. "Believe it or not I don't intend to rescind my promise to your sovereign. I will continue to oppose Lim Tal'eyve, and I will offer my services wherever they are needed – despite the fact that it seems the Most High does not trust me."

"Should he?" asked Aglarel idly, and when their eyes met he could feel the High Prince's presence in the room, probing the air for answers.

"Absolutely. I have no quarrel with Thultanthar, Prince, though it is quite obvious that the Twelve Princes of Shade are opposed to my presence here. I am grateful for the High Prince's protection, and for his willingness to aid me in my fight against the lichdrow; I don't often admit it aloud, but I believe his skills have grown beyond my ability to contain them."

"You do realize, don't you, that if you were to divulge where you came about your knowledge of the Shadow Weave that the High Prince would be far more likely to regard you as a trustworthy ally?" Aglarel inserted, and Aveil dropped her half-eaten peach as though it had shocked her.

"Oh, is that all?" The Archmistress allowed herself to laugh, and Aglarel found his eyes raking her full lips as she did so. "Surely your sovereign doesn't assume that I came by my knowledge of your closely-guarded magics through less-than-reputable means?"

"If he does," Aglarel growled, "now would be a prudent time to assuage those fears, wouldn't it?"

Aveil leaned forward over her teacup, her eyes glittering conspiratorially as she regarded the captain of the Most High's guard; Aglarel found himself quite taken by her games, and even cocked an ear for her to whisper into. "Then I will do so, and gladly – I am what you would call the Dark Chosen of Mystra. Those precious few spellcasters who endeavor to adhere to the express wishes of the Goddess of the Weave often find themselves privy to mighty arcane secrets that Mystra does not lightly share with her followers, as I am sure you know. My case, however, is a very unique one: though I am devout in my worship of Mystra, the way that I choose to conduct my life is often counter to many of the ideals and teachings that she holds most dear. This interesting paradox prompted the goddess to visit me once in a dream, and that was when she bestowed upon me a secret that no other follower of Mystra yet knows – the secrets of the Shadow Weave, which she stole from Shar herself in their eternal war in the heavens. This is how I came by the ability to shadow-walk."

"I have never heard of such a thing happening," Aglarel answered, his voice filled with skepticism, and Aveil sat back in her chair and gave a shrug.

"You can choose to believe it or not, at your peril," the snow elf told him dismissively, as though she hadn't a care in the world. "It is not my aim here to prove that I am trustworthy - though I must admit, the ability to move freely about Thultanthar without my every step being questioned by some higher authority would be of great benefit to me, especially since I doubt Hadrhune will be aiding me with Lim Tal'eyve when he discovers my absence. But on my honor that is the truth, and no amount of delving into my past will yield an answer different than the one I have given."

Aglarel sensed the Most High's silent approval and then withdrew his presence from the Fourth Prince's affairs, and it was with confidence that Aglarel said, "I will question you no further on the matter. The High Prince has vouched for you, and that is good enough for me. That being said, what will you do now? Will you remain here?"

Aveil lifted her teacup and took a sip, her eyes probing his as she said, "For the time being."

Aglarel supposed he could find some enjoyment in her presence after all, and with a nod of acquiescence he finished his breakfast in silence.

Phendrana closed the fourth book in his pile of ancient novels and instinctively tuned out Xanther's voice as the half-elf prattled on in his subconscious mind. The mindmaster felt vaguely guilty at doing such a thing for he knew that Xanther was only trying to be of some assistance, but he had spent hours reading and translating information; his mind was buzzing with half-formed thoughts and his concentration had all but evaporated with time. Glancing up he saw that Twelfth Prince Brennus was still immersed in one of the tomes he had chosen to peruse, his face barely visible between stacks of volumes they had borrowed from the Grand Library, and rather than bother the loremaster while he studied Phendrana slipped out of his own desk chair and padded across the room, parting the heavy flowing curtains with one hand and exiting the prince's private chambers in favor of the balcony.

It was really the first time he had allowed himself a moment to admire any such view of the City of Shade, and its grandeur was simply breathtaking. Though Villa Tareia was at the south end of the Circle and was far less magnificent than most of the other private residences it boasted a fine view of every villa that comprised the Upper District, as well as a lovely profile of the Palace Most High which stood in a place of reverence at the northernmost end of the city. The architecture of each of these residences was nothing less than elegant, and though they were similar in design each had its own defining qualities – Villa Tareia, for example, was the only villa in all the Circle that boasted an observatory dome, from which Brennus more than likely studied the movements of Faerun's constellations when the shadows that enveloped the enclave were thin enough to allow for such a pastime. Centered in the Circle was a great fountain carved from black marble with a glassy finish, in the center of which were jet sculptures of each of the Twelve Princes as well as Telamont's two trusted advisors, Hadrhune and Soleil. Phendrana wondered at the statue of the High Prince's mountebank, marveling at just how out of place her visage seemed, and couldn't help but consider the possibility that perhaps one day a sculpture would be erected in his likeness as well.

It wasn't an unpleasant thought, though for the present Phendrana felt distinctly uneasy. As he was becoming increasingly agitated he felt Zerena's soothing presence encroaching upon his emotions, calming him with her bell-tone voice, and when he relinquished control his body shifted into the likeness of the petite gloaming with the black velvet angel's wings. Zerena brushed a few stray strands of golden hair out of her pale blue eyes and took a seat upon the railing of the balcony, and summoning her miniature harp into her hands she quickly but painstakingly tuned each of the strings before striking up a brooding sort of larghetto in a minor key.

It wasn't long before Brennus had abandoned his work and followed the lure of the music out onto the balcony. He had removed his loremaster's robes – he didn't seem overly fond of wearing them when he wasn't out in public – and wore the familiar pair of roomy black silk trousers and a short-sleeved silk button-down that drifted carelessly open over his torso. In each hand he carried a champagne-style glass half-filled with a dark fuchsia wine; he placed one of these precariously upon the railing a few inches away from Zerena's quivering left wing, and the other he sipped delicately from as he leaned his weight against the banister and looked out over the Circle.

After a time the Shadovar passing through the pavilion took note of the lovely melodies wafting down from the balcony of Villa Tareia; several of them loitered in the square to listen appreciatively, and all of them bowed or saluted the youngest Prince of Shade as they continued on their way. Brennus nodded and smiled at many of them, always careful not to speak and ruin the beauty of the gloaming's music. When Zerena had finished her first tune, perhaps a quarter of an hour in length, the loremaster quietly addressed her. "Traffic in the Circle can only increase from this day forward, for surely it will not be long before your music becomes the most talked-about thing in all the enclave. You have a gift, Lady."

"You are very kind, Prince." Zerena plucked at one of her strings, meticulously adjusting it until its tune was precise to her keen ears, and as an afterthought she added in a decidedly cautious tone, "Phendrana has already become quite fond of you."

Brennus cocked his head in her direction, and though he worked to keep his face composed it was obvious by the liquid quality his eyes had taken on that he was pleased with Zerena's observation. "It brings me great pleasure to hear your assessment. Phendrana is among the most loyal men I have ever known, and it has already been a supreme honor to work alongside him these last few days."

Zerena took up the glass he had left for her and swilled the liquid with a practiced rotation of her wrist, sniffing the tart but delicate bouquet before taking a dainty sip. "This is lovely."

"Thank you. That is heartwine, made here in Thultanthar and nowhere else. It is a very rare vintage."

"Allow me to be frank with you, Prince," Zerena began, striking up a pavane, but the loremaster actually headed her off with a raised hand and a soft smile.

"Lady, allow me to assuage your fears, for I believe I know where your concerns lie." Brennus laid his glass aside and shifted so that he was mostly facing the curious Underdark creature before him, and he fixed her with a solemn expression that aptly conveyed his respect for her. "I was perhaps just as shocked as you and the rest of Phendrana's friends were when he made the decision to accept the High Prince's offer. Honestly I expected him to refuse simply because he had just begun to build a life for himself on the World Below and I assumed he would be most unwilling to sacrifice the love and trust he shared with the first group of people who knew him for who he truly is. I know from my interactions with Phendrana that he is fonder of you than perhaps any of the others – though he makes quite an effort to love you all equally – and that he is very dear to you as well, and I can imagine that you have thought of nothing but his happiness and general well-being since I brought him here. I do not expect that my words alone will be enough of an assurance to you, but allow me to offer them to you anyway: so long as Phendrana remains here I will take it upon myself to ensure that he never wants for anything. This is all I can give you for now, but hopefully in time you will come to see the evidence for yourself."

Zerena blinked once slowly, impressed by the loremaster's kind words and his selfless declarations, but there was one thing that she couldn't quite wrap her comprehension around. "Do you take it upon yourself to see to the happiness of every outsider whom your sovereign and father develops a personal fascination with?"

"No," Brennus answered honestly, "I do not."

"Then why are you making an exception in Phendrana's case? Do not misunderstand – I am grateful to you, and I am thankful that it seems Phendrana will not have to face his life's swiftly-approaching upheaval alone. I just wonder why this seems to be so very obviously important to you. Has the High Prince charged you with this?"

"No, he has not," was the patient reply, and Brennus followed it with a laugh. "It sounds as though you believe there is an ulterior motive behind my actions that I have not shared."

"Do not think me rude," Zerena pleaded, "but yes, that is what I think."

Brennus continued to smile amicably, and if he was at all bothered by the gloaming's inquires he did not show it; he took up his glass of heartwine and sipped at it slowly as though considering how best to answer, and when he replaced the glass upon the banister he said, "And you are correct – there is more to this than meets the eye, though I can personally assure you that my reasons are in no way harmful to Phendrana." There was a brief pause during which the Twelfth Prince appeared faintly unsure and perhaps even a little nervous, and he seemed to change his mind midway through his explanation for when he next spoke the words lacked their previous sense of certainty. "Forgive me – I would ask that you accept this explanation for now. I still have a bit of considering to do for my part, and this matter is not so easily decided upon as I originally thought. And ultimately, I would prefer to make my intentions known to Phendrana first – am I correct in assuming that it is difficult for you to keep your thoughts separate, given that you are housed within the same mind?"

"There are no secrets between us, if that is what you mean," Zerena said helpfully, and then she smiled. "I can sense the goodness in you, Prince, and I can draw my own conclusions on this matter… If it isn't harmful to Phendrana, and you would prefer to address him directly on the subject, then perhaps we should not speak further on it. You have my thanks for your diligence and care. Phendrana is a selfless man with a pureness of heart and a generosity of spirit that no other possesses, but he has always been emotionally fragile. See to it that you continue to treat him the way he deserves."

"I will… try," Brennus agreed, and he passed one shadowy hand down his face as though harassed. "Forgive me, Lady – it has been most insightful talking to you, but I fear I am more confused than before when it comes to Phendrana. His mind is more complex than the most cunning labyrinth… I fear I will never truly know how he feels."

Suddenly Zerena felt a most insistent push against her control of Phendrana's motor functions, and the moment she relinquished control the mindmaster seized it gladly; the doppelganger hopped down from the railing and faced Brennus, his face a myriad of emotions, and the Twelfth Prince gazed back at him with widened eyes and slightly-quickened breath.

"Tell me," Phendrana murmured, his voice low and impatient. "Tell me how you feel."

Brennus lurched forward a step, one hand closing down around Phendrana's wrist, and there were only a few inches separating them when a series of popping sounds issued from the pavilion below. They tore their eyes from one another unwillingly and glanced down into the public square of the Circle to find that all along the cobblestoned streets strange creatures seemed to be materializing from thin air; grotesque monsters with gaping maws filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth, spindly arms with grasping hands and arching tails tipped with deadly stingers that seeped a paralyzing toxin –

The phaerimm had come to Thultanthar.


	6. Chapter Five

Aveil was in Reverie in her temporary quarters within Villa Hara when the closed door was blasted completely off its hinges; standing in the now-open doorway wreathed in a curtain of smoke stood Hadrhune, his darkstaff clutched tightly in the fingers of his right hand and his amber eyes ablaze within his infuriated face. The female spellcaster smirked to herself and swung her legs childishly over the side of the bed so that she could face him, her expression undeniably smug. "Do come in, Hadrhune… and good luck explaining to Prince Aglarel about the state of his door."

Hadrhune stepped through the charred remains of the twisted doorframe, taking a certain measure of satisfaction when the smoldering door crumbled beneath his feet as he trod forward; when he reached the place where Aveil sat he thrust out his free hand and seized the collar of her robes, veritably dragging her upright until they were eye-to-eye.

"What," he growled, his ceremonial fangs glinting dangerously in the candlelight, "are you doing here?!"

"I might ask the same of you," Aveil answered haughtily, managing to shrug despite the fact that she dangled several inches off the ground. "Did Prince Aglarel give you permission to visit his villa? Did you make your intent to reap destruction on the interior decorating clear to him when you walked through the door?"

Hadrhune shook her none-too-gently, pleased with the little spark of fear this action ignited in the depths of her violet eyes. "I see your mind, witch. You mean to hide behind Prince Aglarel and gain his trust, perhaps even cultivate some sort of relationship with him in order to test the depths of my resolve. I have come to tell you that you are a _fool_, and that you will _fail_."

Aveil stole a measure of his bravado then when she laughed in his face. "Consider your words noted! Now release me. You are disturbing my Reverie. I am attempting to divine Lim Tal'eyve's next course of action, and you are obviously interfering."

"I will do no such thing," snarled the seneschal, shoving his face nearer to hers so that it was impossible for Aveil to look anywhere but directly at him. "The Most High charged me with seeing to your well being, as well as aiding you in your efforts against the lichdrow. Your absence is interfering with my affairs! What is your aim?! Do you mean to ruin me, all on account of my refusal?!"

The expression that came over Aveil's face then was nothing short of hatred. "You assume that I fled with thoughts of vengeance?! How little you truly know of me! How you degrade my affections! Do you not suppose that I fled simply because my heart could not abide your company?! That I meant to do you a kindness by removing myself from your sight?!"

"_How is your absence meant to be a kindness to me?!_" roared the seneschal, for he had reached the end of his patience with her.

"Because you so obviously hate me that I felt you would be glad by my departure!" Aveil shrieked back at him, a sob of utmost despair in her voice, and at these words Hadrhune's grip on the front of her robes slackened and Aveil landed lightly on her feet. She glanced up at him quizzically, unable to comprehend his sudden change of heart, and there in his eyes she glimpsed the ghosts of emotions he was still struggling to hide.

"You think that I hate you?" Hadrhune breathed in disbelief, his voice raspy as though all the air had been knocked from his lungs; the fingers of his dominant hand loosened, and the darkstaff slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor near his feet. "Do you truly believe that I pushed you away because I found you detestable to look upon, or unworthy in some way? Can you honestly not know that every moment I spend in your presence I experience an emotional agony the likes of which I have never known? That with every breath I feel that what remains of my heart will shatter? That thoughts of you consume me?"

They faced one another then and witnessed the last of the other's resolve crumbling away in the depths of their eyes, and that was the moment when the wall behind Aveil exploded inward into hundreds of pieces of useless rubble. With one hand Hadrhune summoned his darkstaff back into his possession with a single thought as with his other hand he shoved the female spellcaster none-too-gently behind him; when the dust from the wreckage cleared there was a horde of phaerimm waiting for them, their gaping maws wide and their cruel claws reaching –

"Run!" bellowed Hadrhune, and seizing Aveil by the elbow they turned and fled.

For a moment that seemed to span many hours Brennus and Phendrana stood together on the balcony of Villa Tareia, witnessing as perhaps hundreds of phaerimm materialized in the pavilion and immediately began wrecking chaos on any Shadovar unfortunate enough to be in range. The horrific trance was only broken when several of the aberrations noticed them standing out in the open and changed course; a handful of them charged the front door and admitted themselves through the gaping hole their bodies had created, and still more began scuttling up the walls toward them.

"Phendrana!" cried Brennus. "We must leave! There are too many phaerimm for us to battle on our own!"

The loremaster groped for Phendrana's hand and tugged him back through the heavy flowing curtains into his private quarters, hurrying immediately to his desk and tugging open the bottommost drawer; he pulled out a small black drawstring sack and tossed it into the doppelganger's arms, and in response to the flabbergasted look Phendrana gave him Brennus shouted, "The books!"

To Phendrana, this was an absurd request given the dire nature of their situation. "There isn't time!"

"Perhaps later you will care to explain to the High Prince why they are missing?!" snapped the Twelfth Prince. "The phaerimm are especially adept with all kinds of magic, Phendrana! If there is a way for them to learn to utilize their voices the way that the Dracon do from those books, you can be sure they will – and that is something we do not want!"

_He is right!_ shouted Alax and Xanther simultaneously from within Phendrana's mind, and the doppelganger fell upon the books at once. Each tome was impossibly heavy – Phendrana wasn't sure how he could possibly carry them all – but the problem was solved when he dropped the first book into the drawstring sack and the weight of the bag did not change. In the end he was able to load all eighteen books into the bag and sling it comfortably over one shoulder, surprised to find that it weighed mere ounces; turning back he found that Brennus had slung his loremaster's robes back on, and he was just tucking the Nether Scroll into an inside breast pocket.

"Come!" barked the Twelfth Prince, and Phendrana reached for his hand expecting them to spirit away into the safety of the Shadow Realm –

Nothing happened.

"What madness is this?!" Brennus breathed incredulously, his eyes wild with rage and sudden fear. "Why can I not reach the Shadow Realm? Is it possible that whatever force admitted the phaerimm is also somehow denying me access?"

Screams of terror and agony wafted up from the floor below, a sure sign that the housekeeping staff was meeting a certain gruesome end at the hands of the aberrations; outside the eerie wails of the phaerimm pierced the air, and it became apparent to Phendrana that if they did not depart soon, they would be in very grave danger. _Xanther! What about Amphinix? Can we fly?_

Feeling the insistent push against his control Phendrana allowed Xanther to take over and the doppelganger's body changed; in the blink of an eye he had taken on the likeness of the platinum knight half-elf Xanther, who wasted no time in extracting a flat golden disc from his pocket and tossed it to the ground. The coin exploded into a shower of golden mist, and from the unusual shimmering fog there erupted a horse-like creature with the head, wings and tail of a dragon; it pawed the ground impatiently with one hooved foreleg, and mounting the strange animal Xanther turned back and thrust out a hand for Brennus to take. "Hurry! There is no time!"

Brennus accepted Xanther's hand and the platinum knight heaved him into place behind him on the dragonnel's back as behind them a stroke of lightning blasted the door inward; Xanther dug his heels into the dragonnel's flanks and the creature broke into a swift gallop, heading straight for the balcony –

"Hold onto me!" Xanther bellowed, and Brennus flung his arms around the half-elf's midsection in the instant before Amphinix leapt the guardrail and took to the sky, beating its powerful coppery wings and soaring high enough to take them out of reach of the phaerimm. Behind them, the first of the aberrations reached the balcony of Villa Tareia and scuttled into the prince's private chambers, and Xanther shuddered to think of just how close they had come to being cornered with no escape.

"Where can we go?" Xanther shouted over his shoulder. "The phaerimm are everywhere!"

"We must go to the Palace Most High," Brennus called back. "The mythallar grants us protective enchantments that make the castle nigh impenetrable – it is now the safest place in all of Thultanthar. Perhaps the High Prince will know how the phaerimm breached our defenses."

Xanther nodded and steered his dragonnel mount in the direction of the magnificent palace looming at the northernmost section of the city, and they soared over the pavilion as below the phaerimm continued to wreck havoc upon Shade Enclave.

"Is this chaos enough for you?" asked Lim Tal'eyve, a snicker in his voice and a glint of malevolent pleasure in his eyes.

He felt the divine favor of the Spider Queen Lolth intrude upon his thoughts and heard quite keenly the soft purr of her voice within his mind. _I will admit that I am impressed with your efforts. Using the phaerimm to enter Thultanthar was an especially nice touch. Is there no limit to the lengths you are prepared to go to in order to claim the life of Aveil Arthien?_

Lim laughed and chose to let that serve as his answer, for that was the moment when he stepped through the portal he had created in the ruined city of Tilverton, the location of one of the largest known hives of phaerimm on the face of Faerun.

What did it matter if killing Aveil Arthien was no longer his ultimate goal? He would enjoy it nonetheless.

High Prince Telamont watched the carnage unfolding in the world window with a tortured look on his face, flanked only by Fourth Prince Aglarel and Eleventh Prince Melegaunt; Aglarel had been present in the Most High's audience hall when the initial phaerimm assault of the Circle had begun, and Melegaunt had barely been able to escape his villa and flee for the safety of the castle before their hated enemies had fallen upon his abode and reduced it to rubble and ash. Now the three of them watched helplessly as the city fell into chaos, the phaerimm opposed only by several small, disorganized groups of Shadovar dotted throughout the districts.

At present the most defensible position outside of the palace itself was the Hall of the Arts Martial, the sector of the city where the Shadovar army was trained and participated in grueling combat exercise almost daily under the watchful eye of Fifth Prince Clariburnus. Telamont's warrior son had wasted no time in forming the ranks around the Hall, and for the moment the battalions seemed to be holding. Tenth Prince Rapha had joined them with an additional group of battle mages, and though they had yet to gain any ground they hadn't suffered any severe casualties since the fighting had joined.

Defenses had organized the quickest at the Determinist's Guild, led by Third Prince Lamorak and Soleil Chemaut, but they were now deteriorating the fastest. Cut off from both the Shadow Mages' College as well as the High Church of Shar the Determinist's, more a separate sect of scholars and intellects than masters of the arcane, had no real way of amassing a counterattack strong enough to repel the phaerimm that were attacking that wing of the city, and they appeared to be in the most immediate danger. First Prince Escanor was already en route to the Guild and had traversed perhaps half of the distance between the Guild and the Circle singlehandedly, but the hordes of phaerimm were becoming more numerous with every step he took and he was beginning to tire.

"Aglarel," the Most High commanded tersely, "take the shortest route through the Upper District and meet up with Escanor. If you are not quick, it is likely that he will be overrun before he reached the Determinist's Guild."

It was a very rare occasion in which Aglarel questioned a direct order from his sovereign and father, but he did so now. "Most High, do you think it wise to send me from your side at this time? If the phaerimm breach the castle's defenses, you will have little to no protection from them."

"It is a risk I am willing to take," snapped Telamont impatiently. "I will not lose my eldest son to these accursed aberrations. Do not question me again… now go."

"At once," Aglarel agreed, and with a stiff bow he dashed out of the audience hall as soundlessly as a ghost and set off for the rear of the castle, where there were numerous hidden passages that led out of the Palace Most High through its very foundation. High Prince Telamont and Melegaunt turned their attentions back to the world window then, just in time to witness the next scene that appeared upon its glassy surface.

The Shadow Mages' College was both well-entrenched and highly-defensible, owing both to the nature of study that occurred there as well as its desirable location; located at the easternmost edge of the city and sitting at the point of highest elevation within the enclave, the College was proving most difficult for the phaerimm to attack in an organized fashion. Though the phaerimm were adept at all schools of magic they knew very little in the ways of the Shadow Weave and their defenses were correspondingly weak against them. Fortunately Seventh Prince Dethud, Eighth Prince Mattick and Ninth Prince Vattick all happened to be attending to their respective duties when fighting broke out in the Upper East sector of the enclave, and the three princes had enacted defensive maneuvers almost at once. The College would serve as a safe place for much of the Upper District, Telamont knew, unless whatever fell force that had admitted the phaerimm into Thultanthar in the first place had tricks left to play.

Second Prince Rivalen and Sixth Prince Yder had been presiding over the evening communion within the High Church of Shar when the phaerimm had first attempted to blast the doors open, but by a combination of Shar's divine favor and the protective enchantments Rivalen toiled daily to keep around the perimeter their efforts had yet to prove successful. Those Shadovar who were most gifted in the ways of divine magic already seemed to be present in the Church, and they were using their links of unwavering faith to their goddess to repel their most hated enemies.

Conditions were currently as favorable as Telamont could realistically expect, but he was far from satisfied – after all, the fact that phaerimm had breached Thultanthar's defenses in the first place was practically unheard of. He turned to Melegaunt then, saying, "I fear for all of us if we cannot reclaim the Circle, for it serves as the central hub of the Upper District. As long as the phaeirmm have a strong presence there, the Guild, the College, the Church and the Hall will have no choice but to stand as separate units. For now, I would say you are needed at the Church. Help Rivalen and Yder gain a foothold strong enough to launch a counteroffensive; if you can do that, you can bridge the gap between the Church and the College."

Melegaunt was nodding along, agreeable yet concerned. "What of the others? Brennus and Phendrana? Hadrhune and Aveil?"

"Brennus and Phendrana have just accessed the observation deck – one of Phendrana's personalities has a dragonnel for a mount, and they managed to take to the air and escape Villa Tareia before it became overrun." Telamont waved his hand over the world window and dismissed the image of the Church, and when the glossy surface again became smooth they witnessed a dire sight: Aveil and Hadrhune stood back to back in the pavilion of the Circle, each clinging to a staff as if each artifact were a life preserver, fighting phaerimm with every ounce of strength they could muster and somehow holding their own despite the overwhelming odds. "Hadrhune and Aveil, as you can clearly see for yourself, were not so lucky; their attempts to flee the Circle have failed, and now they will likely not escape with their lives unless reinforcements fight their way in before they fall."

The door to the audience chamber burst open then and Twelfth Prince Brennus admitted himself with Phendrana in tow; they hurried toward the world window with stricken expressions, and Brennus embraced Melegaunt with relief. "Most High, Prince Melegaunt… the others?"

"Melegaunt," murmured Telamont, "be on your way. Do not forget – defend the Church, reach the College." The Eleventh Prince bowed himself out of the audience hall and rushed toward the primary corridor, prepared to do his part for the High Prince, and Telamont's eyes fell upon his youngest son and the doppelganger. "Phendrana, you have my sincerest thanks for rescuing my son. Were it not for your quick thinking and your nearly unlimited resources, I fear that he may have been trapped in Villa Tareia when the phaerimm gained entry."

Phendrana nodded once but said nothing, and when he glanced in Brennus's direction the loremaster said, "Most High, where can we make ourselves most useful?"

"Our forces are spread throughout the Upper District in the four most distinct locations," Telamont explained, gesturing to the world window as it cycled through those four locations at regular slow intervals. "Only Aglarel and Melegaunt were able to reach the palace to receive orders; the rest of your brothers have been hard at work organizing defenses and attempting to launch offensive maneuvers, but all of these things will take a great deal of time. At present my greatest concern is what is happening in the Circle… Hadrhune and Aveil have been unable to escape, and they are cut off from the rest of the Shadow Council with no sign of retreat. How do you find yourselves?"

Brennus and Phendrana exchanged a glance, each appraising the other's condition with great scrutiny, until at last the Twelfth Prince said, "We are prepared to go wherever we are most needed, High Prince. Tell us how we can aid you."

Telamont was staring intently into the world window and alternately studying the faces of Aveil and Hadrhune, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and admiration when he said, "Despite her numerous character flaws, I have seen all that I need to see to place my trust in Archmistress Arthien – I believe that she truly means no threat to Shade, and watching her fight so valiantly to protect Hadrhune has forced me to change my opinion of her. And Hadrhune… It may be the inner conflict he struggles with that has clouded his judgment so much, and his desire to keep my approval while fighting his own personal emotions is undoubtedly what has landed him in his current predicament. Needless to say, I am unwilling to lose them both. Phendrana… do you think it is within your power to gain access to the pavilion with Brennus? Together with the two of you they may be able to fight their way out of the Circle and get to safety."

Phendrana bent at the waist in a bow of acquiescence – the first of what would become countless displays of obeisance, though at the time he did not know it – and said, "I will see that it is done, High Prince. We will fight courageously in the name of Thultanthar."

Telamont actually smile. "Were my heart still beating, Phendrana, it would be beating a little faster at your kind words. Now go, and keep yourselves safe. If you should succeed, return here for further instructions. I am sure I will have further use for you both."

Escanor had the Determinist's Guild in his sights when a half dozen mature adult phaerimm rounded the intersecting avenue from the south and floated toward him, and he shouldered the Sword of the Dark Father and heaved a sigh that was half frustration and half fatigue. He had made considerable ground since escaping Villa Dusari, especially considering that he had come all this way by himself, but with no one to relieve him and no end to the oncoming hordes of aberrations even he had to admit that his outlook seemed bleak. Hefting his sword he charged the nearest phaerimm with a battle cry, praying that his strength held out until he reached his destination.

The first phaerimm was obviously not ready for the swiftness of his advance and didn't even manage to fire a spell off before Escanor was within striking range; the first stroke of his sword severed the creature's front two hands off, rendering its leading arms useless. It attempted to backpedal, uttering the weird cry of its kind in what he assumed to be a cry for help, but he wasn't about to let it escape. Using one of its flailing front arms as a springboard Escanor vaulted nimbly up onto the creature's back, and gripping the pommel of his weapon with both hands he sliced through the phaerimm's tough carapace with a single deft stroke and tore through its spinal cord. The first of the monsters collapsed into a heap with a sigh as though all the air had been let out of it.

But by that time, three more had rushed forward to replace it.

Escanor leapt from the dead phaerimm's back just in time to avoid the cone of fire the leading aberration breathed in his direction, and behind him the creature he had just killed became engulfed in flames and was reduced to little more than a pile of ashes in mere seconds. He had just landed on his feet when the phaerimm that was next in line stabbed its tail forward stinger-point leading, and walking his blade through a quick parry he managed to deflect this as well. The third phaerimm launched an illusion spell at Escanor's back that hit him hard – Escanor glimpsed a brief image of all his worst fears come to reality – and it was only thanks to the bronze pin he wore clasped to his collar that Vattick had imbued with protective enchantments that only the very strongest illusion spells could penetrate he may have fallen to what he saw.

Instinctively he swept his sword in a wide circle and spun, as much to serve as an offensive maneuver as to ward off the creatures seeking to exploit any defensible weaknesses he may have; the spin caught the lead phaerimm off its guard and split its maw open on the first pass, laying the monster low as it slowly drowned in its own life fluids. The other two managed to avoid the killing stroke, and as he came to a stop Escanor was tripped up by one of the phaerimm's tails and stumbled, leaving himself vulnerable to the next attack. One phaerimm snatched his arms at the elbow and pulled his sword arm out wide as simultaneously the other scurried in close, the tip of its cruel tail poised to strike –

A distinctly un-phaerimm-like figure leapt up from behind, and with his enchanted assassin's dagger Fourth Prince Aglarel severed the striking tail at the base. The injured phaerimm shrieked in agony and whirled in an attempt to catch Aglarel, but few in all of Thultanthar could match the captain of the High Prince's guard for speed and its snapping jaws came nowhere close to the mark. Aglarel darted in too close for the phaerimm to defend and stabbed his enchanted dagger deep down the aberration's throat, and the flow of energy that connected phaerimm and shade was a sure sign that Aglarel was sapping every last ounce of life from the unfortunate creature. In a matter of moments the dagger Aglarel wielded had reduced the phaerimm to a pile of oddly-formed bones and he fell immediately upon the second one as Escanor at last managed an awkward swipe with his sword that lopped off the arm that restrained him, and two complex maneuvers later they had decimated the last of the creatures.

Escanor glanced over Aglarel's shoulder expecting to see one more phaerimm, only to find that his brother had put the thing to death already. "I am fortunate that you found me in such a timely manner."

Aglarel's customary low-pulled cowl had fallen back in the battle, and Escanor saw that he now wore a very wide grin. "Our bards will sing songs of this day for millennia! To think that you singlehandedly fought your way through an entire battalion of phaerimm and lived to tell the tale! That is a remarkable feat that no other can claim to have accomplished."

"You flatter me," Escanor said by way of thanks, and they set a brisk pace for the Determinist's Guild. "Have you come from the Palace? What news there?"

"The Circle is in a state of ruin," Aglarel informed him, buffing his dagger clean with a cloth hanging off his belt. "Several of the others are fighting to combine the College and the Church into one unit but enemy numbers in that part of the city are staggering. Clariburnus and Rapha are holding strong at the Hall but will need reinforcements soon."

"Then that is where we will go once we have restored order at the Guild," Escanor proposed, and his younger brother nodded along eagerly. "Did everyone manage to escape the Circle?"

"Not all. Hadrhune and the Archmistress are walled in and all efforts to flee have been cut off. I do not know if the Most High has sent them any aid, but even if he has the confrontation will likely end with their deaths." Seeing the conflict in his older brother's eyes Aglarel continued, "The course of action you have chosen is clearly the most sound – more lives will be lost at the Hall if we do not intervene."

"Let us discuss it when we have joined Lamorak and Soleil," Escanor growled, and reaching the perimeter of the Determinist's Guild they took up their weapons and charged inside.

Standing together on the observation deck of the Palace Most High, Brennus and Phendrana squinted hard in the direction of the Circle and watched for any sign that Hadrhune and Aveil still stood. Aside from the occasional bolt of chilling lightning, a spell that was specific to the Staff of Winter's Chill that served as the Archmistress's weapon of choice, they couldn't even catch a glimpse of the two of them.

"The situation is as the Most High feared," Brennus breathed, his eyes wide with an emotion that could only be terror. "Even with our help they may not survive the day."

Phendrana shook his head fiercely and reached into a pocket of his jade green vestments, pulling out the flat coin that contained the spirit of the dragonnel Amphinix that had long served as Xanther's mount. Tossing it to his feet invoked the unusual shimmering golden mist that heralded the summoning of the loyal creature, and when Amphinix stepped from the fog the doppelganger instantly put out a hand to stroke its flank, saying, "Perhaps our presence will be enough to turn the tide a little more favorably for them, though I confess… The time I inadvertently waylaid those phaerimm in Cormyr at your excavation site was the only time I have ever come face-to-face with such creatures. It goes without saying, therefore, that I have very little experience battling them."

He offered Brennus a hand up and the Twelfth Prince mounted the dragonnel, scooting back toward its hindquarters to allow the doppelganger to leap nimbly into place in front of him before saying, "Phaerimm are very skilled with all kinds of magic – save the Shadow Weave, that is, for it is altogether foreign to them. They are a long-lived race that has gone through great pains to assimilate all manner of arcane and divine magics into their spell repertoire – with the exception of arts that are kept as closely-guarded secrets within certain sects of magic, there is little the phaerimm do not know of the Art. That is likely why Hadrhune and Aveil have managed to stand against them this long – they are both skilled in the ways of the Shadow Weave, something against which the phaerimm have little real defense."

"I know nothing of the Shadow Weave," Phendrana admitted almost sheepishly, and Brennus cuffed him companionably on the shoulder.

"But your knowledge of secret arts is vast! Consider not only what you know, but what your six lost friends know also. Surely there are skills you can utilize against the phaerimm to great effect. But every moment we linger here considering how best to proceed is one more moment that their lives are in danger. We must go now."

Phendrana nodded and dug his heels into the dragonnel's flanks, and with a cry that was distinctly bird-like Amphinix leapt from the observation deck of the Palace Most High and pumped its mighty wings to keep them aloft; Brennus wound his arms around the doppelganger's narrow waist and leaned forward to address him, and suddenly they were connected from midsection to shoulder. "What was the technique you used back in Cormyr? You laid a dozen of the thornbacks low with a single strike!"

"A psionic-based technique known only to the mindmasters," Phendrana explained, "of which there are only an elite few… A mind stab. Mentally draining to the user but highly effective against opponents whose wills are weak, or who are not expecting their minds to be challenged."

"Consider it, if you will," Brennus suggested. "We will need the room."

Phendrana cracked a grim sort of smile as he formulated his own plan, and the loremaster almost didn't hear him when he said, "I have a better idea."

They were nearing the Circle now, and their view of the scenario as it unfolded became much clearer with each one of Amphinix's wing beats. Aveil and Hadrhune had reached the fountain that served as the artistic centerpiece of the pavilion, and it was there that they were making their stand against the phaerimm; Hadrhune's shadow shroud was slashed to ribbons and hung about him in tatters, and Aveil brow was cut and bleeding down one side of her face. Even as they watched three phaerimm rushed the Archmistress from behind, and Hadrhune hefted his darkstaff toward them and conjured six shadow doubles of himself to attack them; the dark likenesses of the seneschal slashed the aberrations with their cruel claws, tearing jagged lacerations in the phaerimm's hides that seeped a highly-concentrated poison of some kind. The three phaerimm writhed helplessly as their bodies experienced an accelerated rate of decomposition, and behind Hadrhune another four of the creatures scuttled forward to attack the seneschal's unprotected back, but Aveil was waiting for them: she whipped the Staff of Winter's Chill in a wide arc and the azure stone set in the head of the scepter blazed a brilliant blue as it expelled a thick flurry of snowflakes, covering the oncoming aberrations with pelting ice and snow. At first the spell seemed to have no effect, but in the next instant Aveil raised her voice in a haunting alto that echoed throughout the destroyed pavilion and the phaerimm began to shriek in agony; the Archmistress's song caused the snow to solidify, and when the four phaerimm that had dared to attack Hadrhune's blind spot were complete ice sculptures she launched another bolt of frozen lightning that shattered them into millions of shard of glassy ice crystals.

"A snowsong?!" called Hadrhune, glancing back over his shoulder to regard the female spellcaster with skepticism and no small measure of awe. "Are you a bard now?!"

Aveil laughed, and despite her obvious fatigue she looked pleased. "I am whatever I need to be."

They were about to fly over the Circle; Phendrana looked back at Brennus and called, "Here is where I leave you, for now! I do hope you know how to fly!"

With that the doppelganger slid from the dragonnel's back and plummeted toward the pavilion from several hundred feet, the wing beats of Amphinix and the warning cry of Brennus nearly drowned out by the sound of air slipping by his ears as he fell. He was able to count up to two score of the aberrations swarming about the pavilion, and more still materializing from some point he could not see, before he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. _Zerena, now is the time. Are you ready?_

In the blink of an eye the doppelganger's natural body transformed into the exact likeness of Zerena Desini, the gloaming Phendrana loved so dearly with the devastating voice; she unfurled her lovely black wings and slowed her descent until she may have been descending gracefully from the heavens, and alighting upon the ebony sword-tip of the blade that First Prince Escanor's statue wielded she summoned her miniature harp into her hands and strummed once. The sound that emanated from the quavering strings was at once terrible and overwhelming in its beauty, and for a moment there was absolute silent about the pavilion as both enemies and allies of Thultanthar regarded the curious creature that had fallen into their presence.

"I am the grim reaper," Zerena told them, setting her slightly-luminous fingertips upon the golden harp strings. "And I have come to sing you to your demise."

And with her skilled musician's fingertips she stroked the strings, unleashing the barely-contained energy that hummed in each of the golden strands as simultaneously she lifted her voice to sing a single resonating note in her haunting soprano's voice; the profound discord erupted with magical power, veritably searing the flesh from the phaerimm's bones, rattling the unbroken windows of every villa in the Circle, shaking the foundation upon which all of Thultanthar was built. Hadrhune and Aveil covered their ears and huddled together as the phaerimm shrieked and writhed and very slowly, one by one, disintegrated into dust.

Twelfth Prince Brennus guided the dragonnel to the ground and dismounted as all the energy flew from Zerena and she swooned from her precarious perch upon the statue of Escanor; the loremaster dashed toward the fountain and leapt nimbly upon the ledge with his arms outstretched, and managed to catch the falling gloaming before she plunged into the pool. He called her name earnestly, smoothing the pale strands of her moon-glow hair out of her aquamarine eyes, and she cracked an eye open and smiled tiredly up at him in response.

"Beautiful and deadly," he admitted in a gentle voice, "but not quite what I had in mind."

"You should put me down," Zerena insisted. "My hold on consciousness is becoming more and more tentative, and I doubt you could hold Phendrana as you are holding me."

Brennus laughed as though he found her words absurd but heeded her wishes nonetheless, laying her out on the slightly-dampened ledge that rimmed the great fountain, and no sooner had he sat back did the image of the gloaming fade to be replaced by the doppelganger's natural body. Phendrana sat up and shook his head vigorously, and though he seemed fatigued by the gloaming's efforts he appeared willing enough to fight on if necessity called for it. Hadrhune and Aveil approached them slowly, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise mostly unharmed.

"There is a portal here," Aveil told them, dabbing gingerly at the stream of blood gushing from above her left eye, "but thus far it has been impossible to determine just where. Where could this portal be linked to, where the phaerimm are so numerous?"

"Whoever has connected Thultanthar with the Material Plane knew where to find phaerimm in great numbers," Brennus observed gravely. "It is not obvious who is behind this, though, or what motivates them to attack the City of Shade so savagely. How could they have bypassed our security measures? It should be impossible for anyone to connect a portal directly to Thultanthar."

"Improbable may be a better descriptor," said a new voice. "Difficult, perhaps… But impossible? Certainly not."

The four of them whirled in the direction of the voice and spied for a split second the shimmering outline of the portal that connected Thultanthar to the World Below, and as they watched a humanoid figure stepped out of its depths and joined them in the pavilion; he appeared almost solid, but there was something about the backlit quality of his dark skin and the faint translucent quality about his slender body that suggested he wasn't of the living world. He wore a cruel smile that matched the malicious curve of the two blades belted upon his hips, and with amber eyes he regarded them as a hunter might view its prey.

"No," breathed Aveil, stumbling one reflexive step backward. "No."

Lim Tal'eyve had come to Thultanthar after all.

"Down!" shouted Lamorak, and Soleil completed a half-pirouette and dipped gracefully for the ground as the Third Prince heaved a flask of vivid orange fluid through the door and into the Determining Hall. The throw was a little off-center but fortunately the flask contained the liquid component of alchemist's fire – his aim could have been completely off and the attack would still have been effective. The glass shattered as it struck the ground in the center of the oncoming group of phaerimm and the liquid flames splattered everywhere, eating holes through the phaerimm's flesh much like a potent acid would, and as their adversaries wailed and shuddered Soleil hefted her falchion, preparing to charge them –

"No!" Lamorak bellowed angrily. "We must leave, and now! The flames will only stem the flow for a short time – we must make the most of this opportunity!"

Soleil hesitated on the spot but did not retreat, her teeth gritted in rage and an expression of unmistakable battle lust etched into her face. "And where do you propose we go?! The Guild is overrun, Prince! If we do not stand and fight we will be caught as we flee, and that is hardly a death befitting one of the Princes of Shade, in my opinion!"

"If we stand and fight, we seal our own fates!" Lamorak argued. "This is not open for debate, Soleil! _Do not question me!_"

Though she desperately wanted to stand and cut every last phaerimm down, the direct order of one of the Princes of Shade was not something Soleil could refuse; cursing with every step the mountebank turned and fled, catching Lamorak at the wrist and half-dragging him along in her wake. They wended toward the back of the Guild through a series of interconnecting tunnels, calling for a retreat every time they passed a Determinist, until they came to the rear entrance of the Guild that would lead them in a straight shot toward the Hall of the Arts Martial. Soleil shouldered the door open and leapt into the side street, her falchion leading –

Phaerimm rushed the group of Determinists from both directions, effectively sealing off their escape route, and Soleil shoved Lamorak backward into the arms of several waiting Determinists. "Take the Prince to the roof and use the catwalks to reach the Hall – it is our last option. I will hold the phaerimm off long enough for you to be on your way."

"Unacceptable!" cried Lamorak, but his fellow guild members were nodding along to Soleil's logic and had already begun to drag the Third Prince back into the rear hallway. "Soleil! You can't possibly mean to take on the phaerimm _alone_?! I won't allow it! What will the Most High say, when he learns that I left you to this fate?! What about Escanor?!"

The Determinists succeeded in tugging Lamorak back into the Guild with them, so Soleil kicked the door shut and turned back to face the advancing phaerimm – there were a dozen of them in all. She ran her thumb over the jet band set with dark sapphires to activate the ring's powerful displacing enchantments and jaunted through the tiny tear in space it had created, appearing in front of the nearest phaerimm and thrusting her falchion into its gaping maw, slashing out its throat. She vanished again – her will was magically attuned to the ring, and she had but to glance at the place she wanted to be and if it was within the ring's range she would appear there – and alighted briefly upon another aberration's back, slicing its tail off just below the stinger and rendering it unable to utilize its paralyzing toxin. Four phaerimm rushed her all at once and she jaunted again, rematerializing with her back against the wall of the Guild, bracing her weight against the fabled structure and driving her falchion up through the soft underbelly of the next nearest monster. The first three were dead within a mere handful of seconds, but nine more yet remained and they were beginning to organize – the more aware they were of her gift, the more difficult it would be for her to maneuver.

One of the phaerimm darted toward her, impossibly fast, and seized her sword arm with both of its spindly arms; she drew the kukri she kept sheathed against the small of her back and hacked both arms off at the wrist, shaking the grasping and useless hands off as she tugged her arm free and brought her falchion down stabbing-style to skewer through the top of the head. Two more were rushing her as she was brushing off the severed hands and one of them succeeded in knocking the falchion out of her grasp with a quick strike of its tail and the other seized her with its arms, its jaws wide, its teeth gnashing as it dragged her nearer –

A poison-tipped throwing dagger flew over her head and into the phaerimm's gaping maw, and two figures leapt down from the roof of the Determinist's Guild and descended upon the remaining aberrations with a ferocity that stunned Soleil into motionlessness. Fourth Prince Aglarel moved impossibly quickly about his work, his poison-tipped throwing daggers finding vital areas with every single throw and the vampiric properties of his knife sapping the life from two of the larger creatures before they could even attempt to regroup, and with his massive sword First Prince Escanor obliterated half of the phaerimm force by himself, his blade decapitating an aberration with every stroke, it seemed.

When the carnage was over some thirty seconds later and the three of them stood in the now-quiet avenue surrounded by the torn corpses of their most hated enemies, Escanor crushed Soleil to him in a quick embrace; when she mustered the strength to return the gesture the mountebank noticed that he was trembling slightly, and dragged his face down so that she could kiss every inch of skin her lips could reach.

"I'm alright," she murmured softly, running her hands over his face. "I'm alright."

"Lamorak said you were alone," he hissed through gritted teeth, and his copper eyes pierced into her soul with their undiluted fear. "I thought – "

"We must be off now," Aglarel interrupted in a flat voice, and drawing his assassin's cloak out to one side he waved one hand over the empty vest of throwing daggers and replenished the supply. "Lamorak will be halfway to the Hall by the time we catch up, and Clariburnus and Rapha will need help organizing the ranks if they hope to break the phaerimm's lines."

"There is nothing more we can do for the Guild," Escanor agreed, and sheathing his sword he took Soleil's hand as they followed Aglarel toward the catwalks – an entire network of pathways that connected most rooftops in the Upper District for just such an emergency. "Most of the Determinists were saved and are now fleeing for the Hall… Aglarel is right. Our services will be needed there."

Soleil was about to use her ensorcelled ring to jaunt onto the roof of the Guild when her empathetic link that connected her to all members of the Tanthul family alerted her to sudden and grave danger; the warning was so insistent, the situation so dire, that the pain she felt drove her to her knees and made her clutch her own chest in agony. Escanor and Aglarel fell upon her immediately, thinking she had been struck by some unseen enemy, and while they fussed over her in words she could not comprehend a flash of the danger she had foreseen appeared in her mind – Twelfth Prince Brennus and the seneschal Hadrhune, accompanied by Phendrana and Aveil Arthien, facing an ethereal drow-like figure that could only be –

"Lim Tal'eyve," the mountebank gasped out, and she took her feet with shaky, uncertain movements, the memory of the agony still fresh in her mind. "The drow is here in Thultanthar. He has appeared before Brennus and Hadrhune."

"What?" Aglarel barked, seizing her by the forearm none-too-gently. "Where?"

"The Circle." Simultaneously they swiveled their heads toward the west; thin tendrils of smoke were rising from the general direction of the Circle, but sounds of fighting in that direction had died away and the pavilion, though distant, seemed now to be eerily silent. Soleil shook off Aglarel's and Escanor's hands and unsheathed her falchion, finishing, "I must go to them at once. That is where I am needed most."

"I will come with you!" Escanor volunteered, but Soleil held up one hand to stop him with an expression that was both grave and insistent.

"Prince Escanor, I love you – nothing is dearer to me now than the promise of your love, and the prospect of our future together. But you knew this about me long before you asked me to marry you… My loyalties to the Tanthul family are unbreakable and unending, and when one of you needs me, I am compelled to go. It is a precious gift that I cannot control, and that I must obey. I feel in the depths of my heart that if I do not go to them, terrible things will happen. Are you willing to take that risk? That is one of your own brothers in there!" Soleil took a step backward, away from them, and when Escanor reached out for her she instinctively avoided his grasp. "Prince Aglarel is right – you are most needed now in the Hall. You must go with him."

"Brother, she is right," Aglarel put in. "Heed her wisdom. She works for the good of us all."

Escanor swept Soleil into a one-armed hug that nearly stole the breath from her lungs, but he released her quickly and pushed her in the direction of the Circle gently. "Go then, but take great care."

Soleil nodded before wincing as her link compelled her to join Brennus and Hadrhune in the Circle, and without a backward glance she ran her thumb over the ensorcelled sapphires within the jet band and jaunted toward the distant pavilion.

Hadrhune was the first among them to act; he slid smoothly in front of Aveil and threw out one arm to conceal her behind him, his darkstaff at the ready, and when he addressed Brennus he turned his head to the side a fraction but never removed his eyes from Lim Tal'eyve. "Prince Brennus, I request that you take Aveil and Phendrana with you and leave this place at once. It is not safe for any of you here."

Aveil had recovered herself, it seemed; she stepped out from behind the seneschal's outstretched arm and brandished the Staff of Winter's Chill before her, glaring at Hadrhune as though affronted. "Out of the question! We will fight together."

"I agree," added Brennus tersely, and he and Phendrana moved to stand as part of the line opposing the lichdrow. "You will need our help if we are to banish this tyrant from our city." Then to Lim Tal'eyve the loremaster said bravely, "You! Prepare yourself for the retribution of all of Thultanthar! Do you think you will be permitted to escape with any semblance of your existence, now that you have committed such a crime?! The punishment for trespassing within the City of Shade is high enough, but to admit our most hated enemies into this place?! You will personally pay for every life lost today – on that, you have the word of the Twelve Princes of Shade!"

Lim Tal'eyve chuckled beneath his breath coldly and bemusedly, and though the corners of his mouth turned upward as he laughed the mirth did not touch his eyes; the amber slits glinted cruelly, as empty and fathomless as a bottomless chasm. "I would prefer it if you did not run, if we are prepared to be completely honest with one another… I'm sure that Hadrhune would appreciate all the help he can muster, wouldn't you, Hadrhune?"

Brennus had been acquainted with Hadrhune for hundreds of years; he hadn't yet been born when Most High Telamont had taken the temperamental and arrogant young elf sorcerer under his tutelage and into the City of Shade, but in every memory he retained of Hadrhune he recalled that the seneschal approached every situation with the same disposition as always. He remained emotionally detached, he considered every possible outcome shrewdly and with a neutral opinion before making any sort of decision, and though he was generally quite taciturn it could never be said that he acted with anything less than absolute, unwavering bravery. And although Brennus was the High Prince's youngest son and technically above Hadrhune's station, he had to admit that he had always looked up to Hadrhune – he had always admired the seneschal's ability to remain emotionally uninvested in his affairs, for Brennus had always been a quietly passionate type who had a rather difficult time of separating his business from his personal life. So the Twelfth Prince looked to Hadrhune now, expecting to see the man he had always known speak a cautionary threat in his customary uncaring drawl, and was almost terrified by what he saw instead.

For when Hadrhune glanced to his right to regard Aveil Arthien he did so with the softened eyes of a man who no longer retained ownership of his own heart, and when he looked upon Lim Tal'eyve he did so with open trepidation. The expression he wore prompted the lichdrow to laugh openly, an echoing laugh that was neither genuine nor lighthearted in any way.

"I must hand it to you, Aveil," said Lim, still chuckling over the words, and Aveil stiffened at the mention of her name for the lichdrow emphasized it lovingly as he spoke as they he were overly fond of her. "All these years you devoted yourself to Drako – dear Drako! How he amused me! And when I came upon you in Neverwinter I thought I had finally stumbled upon you all alone, never expecting the clientele you had surrounded yourself with in his absence! I had always heard that the Netherese archwizards were a force to be reckoned with, that they were among the cruelest and unsympathetic creatures the world over, and to think your charms are such that you managed to cow one of the mightiest among them with barely an effort! The way he threw himself in front of you… Just the way dear old Drako used to. Your uncanny talents for manipulation never cease to amaze me… not just anyone can bring any man they please to their knees. I commend you."

An animalistic growl ripped from Aveil's throat and she thrust her ivory scepter out in front of her; the azure stone set into its head loosed a bolt of chilling lightning, and had Lim not been expecting her to retaliate thusly the stroke may have been enough to unmake him. As it was he simply vanished with a puff of smoke, only to appear a few feet away and chuckling anew.

"My, my… protective of him, aren't we?" Lim smirked, finishing, "It's really quite touching. I always hoped you would find happiness, you know… When you lost the baby I thought you would never recover!"

Aveil shrieked at him, rage and agony twisting the sound into something feral and inhuman; clutching the Staff of Winter's Chill in both hands she rushed at him, hatred contorting her face into an expression that erased every trace of beauty from her comely face. The azure stone in the scepter blazed a brilliant blue, gleaming as hot as a star as she held it aloft to summon her next spell –

Lim Tal'eyve shook his head, seemingly displeased with her approach, and tapped the toe of one of his boots upon the ground at his feet; the impact would not have been enough to kill an insect, and yet it tore open the ground and widened a chasm that gaped like the maw of a horrible beast. Aveil stumbled as shock waves ripped through the pavilion and she swooned, pitching headlong toward the bottomless opening –

Phendrana was the first to react, shifting into the form of water genasi Ristel Clearsea; the elemental savant thrust out one hand and froze a section of the chasm over, so that when Aveil fell she collapsed onto an icy pathway that connected one side of the abyss to the other. Lim Tal'eyve snapped his gaze upon Ristel, tilting his head a fraction in curiosity as he regarded him.

"You are an odd sort," he offered. "Clearly I will not find any sport here… Better to kill you all, I suppose, for I cannot risk failing as I did before."

Aveil was scrabbling across the ice in a desperate attempt to reach solid ground when the lichdrow snapped his fingers and dispelled the entire pathway that Ristel had created; she cried out as at the same time Hadrhune lunged for her, and he managed to catch her by the wrist before she fell to what would certainly have been her doom. Lim drew a thin obsidian wand from his belt, his mouth set with displeasure as he eyed the two of them with undeniable hunger, but Twelfth Prince Brennus was ready for him with a conjured blast of dark fog that blasted the magical device from the lichdrow's fingertips.

Hadrhune, meanwhile, had succeeded in hauling Aveil to safety on the other side of the chasm; she went for her staff at once but he tugged her into him, saying, "No! You must run. It is you he wants, not any of us! Make for the Palace – the Most High will protect you, I am certain of it."

"She's not going _anywhere_!" The last of Lim's words shot through several octaves in his hysteria, and flinging out one hand he summoned the wand that had been knocked from his grasp back into his possession. "You cannot stop me!"

Before any of them could react he had waved the wand and invoked its powers; his body contorted strangely for a moment, as though his bones were rearranging themselves, his face split into agony, and with an unearthly wail his exploded into another creature altogether. His body began to swell, his eyes bulged, his limbs elongated, and before their eyes he took on the likeness of a gargantuan black widow spider. Mandibles longer than their entire bodies snapped viciously once, as though the transmutated drow were testing his handiwork, and then the awful creature scuttled forward on its spindly black legs. Ristel launched a tidal wave from the palm of his hand, hoping to wash the aberration backward with the powerful gush of water and into the chasm that the lichdrow himself had created, but somehow the spider kept its balance and continued forward. Aveil let loose another bolt of chilling lightning, but in her haste to backpedal away from the hulking spider her spell missed its mark and cracked down instead at Brennus's feet, sending the loremaster flying –

The spider swept out one of its legs, and the limb caught Hadrhune square in the chest; the seneschal careened backward several yards before colliding painfully with one of the ebony statues sculpted in the center of the fountain and he lay there dazedly, his head lolling to one side as he struggled to retain consciousness. Phendrana knew that he was the last line of Aveil's defense and so returned to his original form, and tapping into the heart of his significant mental powers he summoned the wellspring of his willpower into a single psionic blast. The mind stab would have been enough to crush the brain of any weak-willed creature, but the doppelganger had forgotten one crucial detail – Lim Tal'eyve was not of the living world and technically had no brain to speak of, and so the attack was rendered absolutely useless. The spider lashed out with one of its forelegs, and the razor-tipped end of its limb struck Phendrana in the chest and punctured one of his lungs.

Aveil shrieked in denial and lifted her scepter in her defense, but the spider struck first; its foreleg dashed the staff from her grasp and left her weaponless, and the others watched helplessly as the spider's snapping jaws opened wide to consume her –

At that precise moment Soleil Chemaut appeared between the spider's jaws and the cowering spellcaster, and with a single stroke of her mighty falchion the mountebank slashed the spider's mandibles cleanly off its bloated face. The spider howled and shuffled backward on its spindly legs in a frantic attempt to put some distance between itself and the warrior with the piercing yellow eyes but Soleil had already anticipated its trajectory and jaunted to its rear, and a second slash of the falchion cleanly cut the rear stinger from the spider's body. The aberration swung around the face her and clipped Soleil's shoulder with one of its flailing legs, pinning her to the ground as it prepared to impale her with one of the barbed tips of its limbs.

Hadrhune heaved himself out of the fountain and summoned his darkstaff back into his hand; the darkbolt he conjured struck the spider square in the back and laid it low, and with a heavy sigh the spider collapsed into a heap, absolutely motionless. They regarded the horrible mutation with narrowed eyes and raised weapons for a moment or two longer, until at last the enchantment expired and yielded the ruined body of Lim Tal'eyve before them.

Brennus fell upon Phendrana at once, for the doppelganger was gasping and appeared unable to draw breath; the loremaster traced his fingertips repeatedly along the puncture wound in Phendrana's chest, chanting an incantation in a strange but elegant dialect that the mindmaster supposed was ancient Netherese, and every breath grew steadier until at last the wound was closed. Soleil accepted Hadrhune's hand and allowed the seneschal to tug her back onto her feet, and glancing past him to the place where Aveil Arthien stood looking bewildered she called, "You have fearsome enemies, Archmistress."

"He is the worst of them all," she spat, nudging the drow's body none-too-gently with the toe of one high-heeled boot. "The rest are easily dealt with – you have my word!"

Brennus had succeeded in easing Phendrana up into a sitting position, and despite the blood that stained his handsome green attire he appeared to be recovering nicely. The Twelfth Prince looked to Soleil as she was sheathing her falchion, asking, "Do you have news of the other areas of the city? How are the others faring?"

"Escanor, Lamorak and Aglarel are accompanying the survivors from the Determinist's Guild to the Hall of the Arts Martial," Soleil explained. "They may even now be arriving… That is the extent of my knowledge. I have heard nothing of either the College or the Church, save that fighting continues on in both locations."

"The pavilion is demolished," Brennus observed, helping Phendrana to his feet as they all took a look around. This assessment could easily be considered an understatement; the Circle was barely more than heaps of rubble, for the devastation was so widespread that the homes of all the princes had been reduced to wreckage. The fountain appeared to be in working order but the statues that served as its artistic center were also ruined; several of the statues still retained likenesses of some members of the Shadow Council, and still others were in such a state of disrepair that they were no longer recognizable. Phendrana couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Brennus, Soleil and Hadrhune, all of whom were now technically without homes.

"There is little reason for us to linger here," Hadrhune observed as he and Soleil joined Brennus and Phendrana; the seneschal kept a watchful eye upon Aveil as he moved, for she was still busying herself about the drow's corpse and had yet to join them. "The lichdrow is obviously finished, and the portal has closed with his passing, but there are still phaerimm to eliminate. We should return to the Palace Most High with all haste, and discern where the High Prince wishes us to be of further assistance."

"I can jaunt there almost as quickly as you can shadow walk," Soleil offered, "and I could bear one of you with me, but not all of you."

"We flew here," Phendrana added, glancing to Brennus for affirmation. "Xanther's dragonnel bore both of us from the Palace Most High with no difficulty."

"Lamorak mentioned that the Shadow Realm was denying him access, and that is why we had little choice but to escape the Guild on foot," Soleil remembered suddenly, and she glanced to Hadrhune before finishing, "Surely now that the lichdrow has been put down you have regained the ability to shadow walk as you please?"

Hadrhune supposed this was true and attempted to slip through the fabric between worlds and enter the Realm of Shadow, but though he envisioned his desired destination perfectly clearly he remained rooted to the spot where he was. Realization struck him as surely as one of Aveil's chilling bolts of lightning – it was the drow's interference that had been barring them access to the Shadow Realm, and if they still could not reach it there was only one logical reason why.

He whipped his head to one side to bark a warning at Aveil; their eyes met just as Lim Tal'eyve's scimitar pierced Aveil's bosom and tore through her torso. They watched, expressions of horror etched deeply into their faces, as the point of the weapon broke through the female spellcaster's back and effectively severed her spinal cord, and Lim Tal'eyve shrieked with laughter to see the shock and excruciating agony in her eyes.

"Look at me," he crooned. "I have been waiting for this moment… I want to watch the light leave your eyes, dearest Aveil. You owe me that much, at least."

Aveil opened her mouth and spat out a gout of blood as her legs gave way, and she would have collapsed to the ground had she not been held aloft by the blade in the lichdrow's hand. She coughed a few times, taking a measure of satisfaction in the crimson droplets that stained her most hated enemy's clothing, and at last managed to say, "I owe you one thing more."

And she drew the second scimitar from the drow's own belt, and stabbed him in the heart.


	7. Chapter Six

It was empathetic agony unlike anything Soleil had ever experienced, and that was saying something. She recalled a time years previous when High Prince Telamont had sent Fifth Prince Clariburnus along with a small contingent of foot soldiers and battle mages into a phaerimm colony to exterminate the aberrations, only to find the phaerimm numbered three times the initial estimate; on that occasion Clariburnus had nearly lost a leg in the ambush, and despite a separation of thousands of miles Soleil had felt the wound as keenly as if she had suffered it herself. Just months ago Mattick and Vattick had engaged one another in a friendly wizard's duel that had taken a turn for the worse when Vattick had accidently melted the skin off the left half of Mattick's face with a poorly placed cone of acid – the memory of that injury still made Soleil shudder when she recalled it, though luckily Rivalen had tended the wound quickly enough to see that Mattick hadn't incurred any permanent damage. And just days before she had felt the burst of sunlight as its illumination attacked Hadrhune's shadow orb – she had been shadow-walking back to Thultanthar from the Dragon Coast then, and the pain of it had driven her to her knees and rendered her immobile for several minutes.

Those things were nothing like this – this was not a physical pain but something much deeper, something far more primal. It was the distinct sensation of a fissure ripping through someone's chest, the emotional anguish that was the complete rending of a person's heart as a piece broke away from the whole. It was pain so great that for a brief moment, Soleil wished she could die simply to escape it.

Then she remembered that Aveil Arthien was not encompassed by her empathetic link, that the Archmistress of the Citadel of Assassins was completely bereft of her influence, and it struck her that the pain she felt was not the physical agony of Aveil's death.

It was the complete emotional trauma that Hadrhune experienced as his heart broke.

Dying was easy in Aveil's opinion – though it was difficult to view it as anything but pleasant in a twisted, bittersweet sort of way. She had always been privately jealous that both of Lim's previous deaths had come at the hands of her on-again off-again lover Drako Falconis, and as the drow's eyes darkened and became as empty as a void she smiled a little to herself before drifting off after him, feeling a tremendous sense of satisfaction despite the fact that she was more tired than she had ever been. She may have even died with no regrets – after all, in her remarkably short lifespan she had killed a very long-lived fang dragon who had claimed ownership of her for many years, put down the tyrant who had dared to call himself Archmage of the Citadel of Assassins, thwarted a divine catastrophe during the Time of Troubles, and helped keep Lim Tal'eyve from becoming the next plague upon Faerun. All that kept her from being pleased with her end was the moment when Hadrhune called her name; the torment in his voice incited a ripple of displeasure to cross her face, but there was no time for her to respond for in the next moment she passed completely out of the living world.

When next she opened her eyes she was reclining upon a very plush maroon chaise lounge, clad in a flowing yet flattering snow-white gown that was so soft it may have been knitted from clouds. This seemed a fitting but rather anticlimactic end, she thought – surely after her hardships she deserved a good rest, but if she was condemned to spend her afterlife lazing about she knew she would come to feel quite miserable very soon. To make matters worse, she found that she was not alone – she blinked her eyes once or twice in an attempt to gain her bearings, and when she opened them Lim Tal'eyve was standing in front of her.

Abruptly, Aveil was outraged. "To the Nine Hells with you, Lim Tal'eyve! Being forced to abide your presence throughout the course of my days among the living is one thing, but I refuse to allow you to make my afterlife just as miserable! I believe I have earned some much needed rest – do you not have somewhere else to go? Can you not prey upon some other piteous creature for awhile?"

Lim ran a hand down his face, looking quite harassed, before jabbing a finger accusingly in her direction, saying, "Do you think this is how I wished for things to end?! Are you really so weak as to allow a simple _stab wound_ to serve as the grand ending of the life of the infamous Aveil Arthien?!"

This was a curious way to react to events that he had pre-mediated, Aveil thought offhandedly. "Perhaps if you knew you would be so displeased, you should not have perpetrated such an ending. What would have been more to your liking? To consume my body in that hideous spider form? Oh yes, very original. So very creative."

The drow sat down heavily on the far end of the chaise lounge, now running a hand through his hair and seeming more distressed than before. "Do not misunderstand me – of course I meant to kill you. How could I wish otherwise? To think that your husband – "

"Ex-husband," Aveil reminded crossly, and Lim tipped his head to acknowledge the correction.

" – Put me to death twice – _twice_! – and all on account of you! For what was his quarrel with me otherwise? He had none. Foolish Drako – so blinded by his love for you that he involved himself in affairs that were far beyond his reach or comprehension. Do you know, when I finally claimed his life I felt very little satisfaction – to be frank, I felt _cheated._ Years of dreaming only for redemption, hours spent envisioning the most fitting ways to kill him, and when it finally happened it was so… _unfulfilling_."

"Then it's true what they say, I suppose," Aveil put in, chuckling nervously all the while. "The end of the journey is nothing – the journey itself means everything." She considered Lim's words quietly for a moment, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of melancholy when she realized just what he meant, and then asked, "When… did you send Drako to his end? I never knew…"

"And you wouldn't have," Lim broke in, waving a hand impatiently as though longing to reach the real crux of the matter, but seeing that Aveil wouldn't allow him to chance the subject until she had received a suitable answer he heaved a pained sigh and obliged her. "It was a year or two ago, what does it matter? I tracked him to Chult and came upon him as he at last located the air elemental that fathered him, and then I stabbed him in the back. When you consider the great pains he put me through, his death just doesn't seem like adequate compensation for my troubles. He beseeches Mielikki to return him to life constantly, but as far as I know she has yet to honor his wishes."

"You killed him as he was finally getting the answers he had been seeking for his entire adult life?" Aveil shook her head sorrowfully, privately mourning for Drako's plight.

Love lost was not the reason she had ended her marriage to Drako; he had grieved the unexplainable death of his mother for quite some time, often shouldering his own emotional burdens without complaint on account of Aveil's rather hefty personal baggage, and perhaps had never come to terms with the loss. The added loss of their child had taken a heavier toll on Drako than Aveil had expected it would – after all, he hadn't known that the child had even been conceived until he had learned that Lim Tal'eyve had destroyed it prior to his arrival at Castle Perilous seeking Aveil. Looking back on it Aveil supposed that Drako had viewed the unborn child as his fresh start on life, a way for him to focus on the more joyous facets of life as opposed to dwelling on the negative, only to be robbed of it as well.

No, Aveil had abandoned Drako because that singular course of action had seemed to her the only way to begin life anew at the time – that, and she rarely considered herself as the settle down and raise a family type anyway. The notion of staying with Drako Falconis until the end of her days, perhaps being surrounded by their children and grandchildren, occasionally incited within her feelings of warmth and security but more often than not brought to mind thoughts of doubt and a sense of claustrophobia. Aveil had lived her entire life on a knife point, constantly looking over her shoulder for the next dagger aimed at her back, dancing upon the brink of death with barely a moment of reprieve since the moment she had set out from the Frostfell as the young orphan of deceased snow elf kings. Where was the excitement in a life of security? Wherein lay the adventure in knowing that every day's course of events had already been decided upon?

The loss of Aveil, his unborn child, and his mother had compelled Drako to seek out the only other person the air genasi had ever had a care to meet – the air elemental who was his father, the man whom Drako had never met.

Aveil could think of only one comment to offer at the end of her contemplations. "What an inopportune time to die."

Lim blew out a sigh and rolled his eyes in a completely unsympathetic manner. "You and I both know that luck was never on Drako's side. Now can we return to the matter at hand? This is a dilemma that I have very little time to resolve, you see."

Aveil was beginning to feel rather annoyed, made even worse by virtue of the fact that she was rather of the opinion that it should be against the law to feel annoyed in the afterlife in the first place. "What exactly _is_ the matter at hand? You take issue with the manner of my death? My death itself seems untimely in some way? Does it not seem strange that you are more concerned with the fact that I am deceased than I am?"

"I didn't mean to kill you!" Lim raved, flinging his arms in the air in a show of utmost frustration.

"Then why attempt to kill me at all?!" Aveil roared.

The drow eyed her for a moment as if wondering why she was being so purposefully dull-witted before explaining slowly, "Perhaps I might have been better served saying that I didn't mean to kill you… yet."

"Oh, that makes perfect sense," snapped Aveil sarcastically. "How foolish of me to assume that it was your blind, senseless hatred of me serving as your primary motivation."

"Hate you?" Lim broke into a high-pitched hysterical laughter as though this was the craziest notion Aveil could possibly have thought up; still chuckling heartily to himself he leaned closer and continued in a deathly serious tone, "How could I ever hate you? Where would I ever be without you? Now that I have utterly destroyed Drako and all but ensured that he will never again walk the wilds of Faerun, you are the only person left in this great world that has any chance of giving my existence any semblance of meaning! You challenge me! Without you, life is just so… _easy_."

"Well, we can't have that," Aveil sighed, looking exasperated.

Suddenly Lim leaned forward, fixing Aveil with an expression that was highly expectant and devoid of all mirth. "Do you know why the last several years have progressed as they have? Why I killed Drako - arguably my longest-standing nemesis of all? Why I destroyed your unborn child? Why I raised Castle Perilous and burned the Bloodstone Lands to the ground? Why I stormed the Demonweb with you, why I followed you to Sigil and put an end to a demigoddess in your protection, why I aided you in putting an end to Archmage Knellict?"

"It seems you are hoping for an answer more complex and meaningful than 'because you despise me'," Aveil observed sardonically, and Lim shook his head fiercely. "Alright then… Because you are desperate to retain the favor of your goddess, the Spider Queen? You needn't worry about that. Now that you have ended me, she will undoubtedly bestow her favor upon you for all time."

"You are thinking too broadly," Lim told her, with the air of a man speaking to a child. "Your close-mindedness is becoming quite taxing… Would it not seem counter-productive, helping you through your endeavors all those years ago if I meant to gain Lolth's favor? Lolth detests you, Archmistress, longer than she has detested poor old Drako… and nearly as long as she has despised me."

"What?" Aveil interjected, but the drow was no longer listening, for he was now a man on the cusp of revealing a grand scheme.

"It should come as no surprise to you that Lolth – like all deities – retains a long-standing hatred for any mortal who has ever taken steps to oppose her divine plan."

"It doesn't."

"Dearest Aveil, are you being thick on purpose?" Lim sighed tragically. "Genius is so often misperceived… Think back now. What was I doing when we met for the very first time, all those years ago? Do you recall whether I had Lolth's favor then or not? Do you remember what sort of man I was, and what sort of cause I was supporting?"

That was the moment when Aveil sat up a little straighter, her brilliant violet eyes a little wider than before and her sumptuous lips slightly parted in surprise. "I do. You had abandoned your house in Ched Nasad and left it to burn in one of the insurrections that marked the start of the Time of Troubles. You were one of the leaders of the Jaezred Chaulssin… you went on to become the Anointed Blade."

Lim was nodding solemnly as memories came streaming back to Aveil with startling clarity. The Time of Troubles had occurred nearly two decades previous, before Aveil had obtained her freedom from both Rhadamanthus and Knellict; it was a cataclysm that had left the drow priestesses that so depended upon the Spider Queen's divine favor quite powerless for quite some time, and try as they might to keep this dreaded secret from reaching the wrong ears it had eventually become public knowledge. As a result, male drow all throughout the Underdark – largely considered the inferior sex of the dark elf species – revolted against their priestesses and incited a mass sojourn to a location or locations then unknown. The place where most of these renegade males had flocked to was the seat of power of a rebel sect of male drow called the Jaezred Chaulssin, a secret order whose sole purpose since their founding had been but one thing – to end the tyrannous reign of female drow priestesses and turn the tables on their hierarchy. Many within the Jaezred Chaulssin considered it their duty to put an end to the Spider Queen herself, and turn the entire dark elf race over to the divine intervention of some other deity – with the hopes that said deity would favor the male drow cause, of course.

Lim Tal'eyve had come from a prestigious house in the city of Ched Nasad – one of the most influential and powerful in all the City of Shimmering Webs, in fact – and though he had been born the eldest son his station was of little consequence, for he was still a male and thus beneath the notice of his drow priestess sisters. When the Time of Troubles had still been within its early stages and male drow had only just begun to abandon their houses, Lim had set fire to House Tal'eyve and murdered his entire family before vanishing into the untamed caverns and tunnels of the hostile Underdark. How he had come to find the headquarters of the infamous Jaezred Chaulssin even Aveil did not know, but through a combination of his martial arts prowess, his cunning, and his unwavering devotion to their cause he had eventually been promoted to the position of Anointed Blade.

And in the Jaezred Chaulssin, it was blindly and fanatically believed that the Anointed Blade would be the one to strike the deathblow to Lolth herself.

Realization struck Aveil as surely as the drow's sword had not long before. "All this time?! But I don't understand! Why has Lolth allowed you to live all these years if your only goal now is to utterly destroy her?!"

Lim spread his hands with a wry smile as if to indicate his current predicament and said, "Quite obviously, she hasn't."

Aveil could only bite her tongue in response to that, for it was true – technically, Lim Tal'eyve hadn't been alive since near the end of the Time of Troubles, the night Drako Falconis had learned of his treachery and ended his life. Even his hostile takeover of the Bloodstone Lands had been something of a bid to re-enter the Living World, for Lim had done so as a lich, not as a living creature.

Still, it didn't quite make sense. "But she continues to bestow her favor upon you, just as surely as you continue to strive to obtain it! Was it not on account of your loyalty to her that she agreed to elevate you to lichdom in the first place?!"

"Only after I agreed to entrust to her my soul," Lim added, suddenly mutinous at the memory. "I needed enough power to forge my own path, and she needed collateral to reassure herself that I could never get too far from her. It was a desperate gamble, to be sure – one that you and Drako thwarted together, as I recall."

"Did you expect we would aid you?!" Aveil shrieked, furious now. "You manipulated one of our own companions against us! You claimed me as your captive and subjected me to tortures that still haunt my slumber! Your forces put to death a paladin king and toppled a once-great empire! And need I remind you that you _murdered my unborn child_!"

Lim crossed his arms over his narrow chest and scoffed. "And I suppose you think that Lolth would have continued to let me go about my business otherwise? My work had to appear believable at all times, Aveil. To act in any other manner would have delivered me unto ruin."

"What were you hoping to achieve?!" Aveil's voice ripped through multiple octaves in her hysteria, and though Lim audibly winced he also leaned closer, pitching his response into a conspiratorial undertone.

"I hoped that if I spent enough time upon the Material Plane with such resources at my disposal, I might stumble upon or otherwise invent a means of restoring myself to a more permanent state of life. Need I remind you that before I raised it from its ruin, Castle Perilous was once the seat of power of the great Witch-King Zhengyi himself? The lich may have been a lowly human, Aveil, but he was longer lived than nearly any human who ever existed. There were both arcane and divine secrets locked within that relic's walls that slipped through my fingertips when you and Drako ended my lichdom and destroyed my phylactery – secrets that would have been able to help me achieve my ends. Did you not hear of the wayfarer, Ishka?"

"The nomad who attempted to murder High Prince Telamont during his own birthday celebration just weeks ago?" Aveil barked out a single cold laugh. "A fool. Of course I heard of that – everyone did."

"I thought that may have fallen upon your ears," said Lim loftily. "Did you ever consider by what means Ishka was able to keep himself alive, or how his body was able to survive such brutal attacks? The seneschal you are so fond of, Hadrhune, tore the pitiful wretch into shreds – _shreds_, Aveil – and Ishka was able to knit himself back together and rally into one last foolish attack upon the High Prince. I have even heard it told that Telamont, in his infinite wisdom, could think of no better way to deal with that riffraff than to seal him within Thultanthar's foundation! After all he has endured, still the waif lives!"

"But why?" breathed Aveil, and Lim smirked triumphantly.

"Do you not know? Ishka stumbled upon one of the relics of Castle Perilous in his wanderings – an artifact that I myself had been tampering with before my untimely return to the Abyss. The relic contained the secrets of immortality – the very thing I have been striving to obtain. Clearly the artifact still possesses its power – why else would the High Prince of the City of Shade allow such a traitor to live? I can think of only one reason – because Telamont himself did not have the power to unmake Ishka."

Aveil relaxed back upon the chaise lounge, her thoughts chasing circles around her mind, but one thing still did not make sense. "If such artifacts exist, why did you not use one to restore yourself to life?"

"Because they are obviously flawed," Lim explained. "Consider Ishka, for example – the relic he managed to get his hands on rewarded him with unnatural long life and unprecedented powers of regeneration, but it came at a heavy price: the man's mind deteriorated rapidly, until he was mentally insane." Then Lim winked at her playfully and added, "Flawed, coupled with the fact that I was banished back to the Abyss before I was able to test one on myself."

"If the alternative was insanity, perhaps I did you a favor and you should be thanking me," Aveil pointed out, and though the sarcasm was apparent in her words she was not expecting the response that the drow gave her.

"Believe it or not, I am prepared to reward you for your unintentional aid." Lim's eyes veritably danced with barely contained anticipation; it was the only indication Aveil had that they had at last reached the crux of the matter. "Now that you know I have been secretly opposing Lolth all along, and that my true aim is to return to the Material Plane not as a lich but as a living, breathing entity, I wonder if you might be willing to help me – in exchange for adequate compensation for your efforts, of course."

Aveil's face abruptly soured. "Need I remind you yet again that you murdered my unborn child? There is little you could promise me that would convince me to throw my lot in with _you_."

"Even the promise of your life?"

The words brought Aveil up short and she leaned forward, clearly intrigued but dubious all the same – after all, if living had taught her one thing, it was never to trust Lim Tal'eyve. She did her best to hide her interest but the drow knew her better than she could ever begin to guess, and though her attempts were valiant Lim had to do his best not to laugh. "And I am to believe that is something you can grant me? You are not all-powerful, Lim Tal'eyve – despite your considerable efforts you are here, the same as me, clinging to your cursed half-life and still answering to the express commands of the Spider Queen. No matter how much you wish it otherwise, your fate is detestable – as is mine."

"Am I to understand that you are not interested?" Lim privately admitted that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "Your choice is regrettable, to be sure… If you truly desired it, you could be back in the City of Shade in just moments." The drow unfolded his hand to reveal a pair of curious rings resting upon his dark palm, both with curved silver bands that wound intricately around trilliant-cut stones; one of the stones was a clear crystal, too colorless and transparent to be called a diamond and more delicate-looking than any other gem Aveil had ever seen, and the other was dark and opaque with a color that was almost indeterminable. It may have been dark blue for a moment, but if she looked away for a moment and re-focused on it, it then seemed a deep crimson. The composition of the second stone was quite strange; as Aveil studied it she felt almost certain that there was something residing just beneath the surface of the gem, but she had no way to be sure.

"Believe it or not, I anticipated this turn of events," Lim explained, his tone soft and disarming so as not to interrupt Aveil's trance. "If you accept my offer, you need only to place the crystal upon your finger and I will return you to life, and to Thultanthar. It seems fair, does it not?"

Aveil realized then that she had been unconsciously reaching for the crystalline ring and snatched her hand back as though burned, and glaring back at Lim she hissed, "If you truly think I am dense enough not to question your ulterior motives, perhaps you are the fool after all. You would not offer to restore me to life out of the goodness of your heart – such acts of kindness are uncharacteristic of the Lim Tal'eyve I know. You can only stand to gain from this arrangement somehow, and before I even consider accepting your proposal I want to know the entire truth."

"Very well." The drow closed his fist around the twin rings and settled back against the plush chaise lounge, his cruelly handsome face splitting into a malevolent grin. "The crystalline ring that would belong to you represents an empty vessel – the sort of entity you will become upon returning to the Material Plane. Surviving as a living being does but completely lacking a soul… this is the sort of life you can expect when I restore you, at least until you have completed the task I have set aside for you."

"Out of the question!" snapped Aveil, and fuming at her own foolishness she crossed her arms. "You would presume to make me a wraith – a creature without a spirit, existing without substance or purpose? I refuse!"

"If you would allow me to finish," Lim broke in coolly, and opening his hand again he indicated the other ring with the dark, opaque stone. "The ring you see here is different in only one way – the ever-shifting shadow you see lurking just beneath the surface, the reward I will bestow upon you the instant you have completed your task. That dark and sinister thing you see there… that is your soul."

Aveil's hand darted out, impossibly fast, in an attempt to snatch the gem out of the drow's palm, but Lim was the faster – he closed his fingers possessively around the treasure, his smile widening, and held it well out of her reach.

"Perhaps I should have been more specific – this is your soul, which will continue to reside in my keeping until you have completed your task."

The female spellcaster pouted at him sullenly. "You keep going on and on about this task you have prepared for me, and yet I have heard no mention of what it entails. Stop wasting my time."

Lim Tal'eyve leaned forward to divulge the very heart of his carefully calculated scheme, and though Aveil had been expecting something grandiose and elaborate even she had been incapable of envisioning the unbelievable scope of his plans. "You see, Aveil, throughout the years of my captivity here I have quite outgrown the idea of simply overthrowing the Spider Queen; indeed, even the mere thought of destroying her losing its appeal little by little as time goes by. And so one day I devised a plot that satisfies my most basic yet coveted desire… my insatiable lust for great power. I tasted it for a brief moment when the Anointed Blade was in my possession, I flirted with it again when I commanded Castle Perilous and razed the Bloodstone Lands, and now I have at last discovered how to make it mine for all time. I will transcend the mortal world and stretch my influence toward the heavens, where I will seize immortality and divinity from Lolth's clutches. In one fell swoop I intend to cast the Spider Queen down once and for all, and claim her place among the Faerunian pantheon for myself."

It was so obviously absurd that Aveil could only laugh out loud, so long and hard that she was certain her stomach would burst; when at last she had managed to master her hysteria she wiped her streaming eyes and choked out, "This is madness! You wish to become a _god_?! Some dreams are out of reach, my foolish friend – that is a lesson that you never did learn, it seems! So tell me – how do you intend to go about securing that which you desire?"

"That is where your task comes in," Lim explained with a careless shrug, as though it hardly mattered that Aveil found his plans completely absurd. "I have already agreed to spare your life and return you to the Material Plane – to Thultanthar, to be exact – and in return, you will convince High Prince Telamont to make me a shade."

Needless to say, it was many more minutes before Aveil was capable of conversation.

"There are many obvious flaws in your plan," Aveil chuckled, "which I will be all too happy to bring to your attention. Firstly and most obviously, you have reduced Thultanthar to rubble. You have decimated the population of the only remaining city belonging to the Netherese Imperium. You have routed the High Prince's intricate security system. And just days ago you nearly killed the High Prince's chosen emissary. The price on your head grows by the minute, so much so that the next time the Princes of Shade hear even a whisper of your passing they will destroy you without question or consideration. So what is it you think you have to offer the High Prince that will not only pacify his hatred for you, but entice him to grant you such amazing power?"

Lim spread his hands and smiled the same cruelly handsome smile as before, though now his eyes danced with excitement. "I will give him Lolth. Think of it! My gift to the High Prince of the City of Shade… the Spider Queen on a silver platter! The most hated enemy of Dark Lady Shar… the lesser goddess whom Shar has longed to be rid of… Gone! Just like that, and with next to no effort on the High Prince's part. What do you think? Is it not a perfect plan?"

Aveil rolled her eyes. "You do not have the means to destroy Lolth."

"That is the purpose of becoming a shade," Lim explained impatiently. "Do you know nothing of the company you keep? Why do you think that in a city of ten thousand worthy specimens, the High Prince grants so few the precious gift of the shadow? It is because in this great world of ours, the shades are the closest mortals have ever come to experiencing divinity for themselves. High Prince Telamont is longer lived than any other ruler of any other kingdom of Faerun – do you not know why? It is because he is a shade. Those who trade their beating heart for the very essence of shadow do not only become imbued with power absolute – they literally hold the secret to defying death in their hands. A shadow is a constant thing that can neither be destroyed nor altered – you can cast as much light as you wish upon it, but in the end you can only distort it, not make it disappear. A shade's body cannot deteriorate because it is not controlled by a living organ, but a barely-tangible idea, a formless force. Even the spell of purest, most potent daylight that I cast upon the very life force of the High Prince's chosen emissary was not enough to destroy him; the shades are mightier than you can comprehend, Aveil. They do not even know their own strength – the strength to topple the gods."

"And what is to stop you from rebelling against the Netherese Imperium, in the highly unlikely event that everything plays out as you desire and you put an end to the Spider Queen?" Aveil asked skeptically.

Lim simply smirked, saying, "Respect. If the High Prince turns out to be kind enough to aid me in my endeavors, I suppose I could find it in my heart of hearts to spare him in the end."

"Very noble." Aveil fixed the drow with a very serious gaze, and it was clear from the slightly unfocused set of her eyes that she was considering all that had been said. "You know I believe this all to be folly."

"Of course you do. You have always been impossible to sway, not to mention as stubborn as a rothe."

"This is not a game. One false move, a single act of defiance, the barest hint of treachery, and you will be destroyed. If not by me, by the Princes of Shade. Your end will be swift and merciless."

"That is the beauty of this plan – from your perspective at least." Lim held out his hand again, palm up, and upon it the silver band with the translucent crystalline gem glittered enigmatically. "I cannot even begin to bring my plans to fruition until you have already succeeded in your own. You are the one who will earn me my chance – once I have that your part will already be over, and your soul will be in your keeping once more. The potential for treachery on my part is completely non-existent… now, do we have a deal?"

Aveil had no way of knowing how her choice would affect the course of history in the years to come, nor did she care – at the moment her thoughts only centered around her regret at being stripped of life so soon, and the thought that the greatest love she had ever known had been denied to her before it had even had a chance to grow. Her hatred for Lim Tal'eyve mattered little at that moment – redemption was all that really mattered, and the opportunity to make up for lost time.

And so Aveil slipped the crystalline gem onto her littlest finger, and woke up seemingly from a dream.


End file.
